Kestrel
by Westhaven18
Summary: You'd think with the year they'd just had, they'd have earned a normal senior year. Well, you'd be wrong. This is the Xavier Institute. Anything that could happen probably will. Sequel to Sniper. NOT ABANDONED!
1. Chapter 1

**AND I AM BACK! Now that Hurricane Irene has gone on her merry way, I can begin.**

**For Nick... When next we meet, I shall slap you, then hug you 'til you burst.**

Kestrel

Prologue

The rising of the late August sun marked the start of many different events.

* * *

><p>In Bayville, New York, last minute preparations were underway to welcome the stream of students returning to the Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. By week's end, the huge, respectable, red brick mansion would be brimming with veteran students – those who had a survived a year or more at the unpredictable school and chosen to return. Just in time to welcome several very new students.<p>

For Professor Charles Xavier, it was shaping up to be a good year – even if they were losing some fine older students.

For his fellow instructors, however, things seemed to be going suspiciously well. Afterall, this was the Xavier Institute.

Nothing ever went according to plan.

* * *

><p>Not so very far away, a tall businessman was quietly walking through a secret doorway in his plush office.<p>

The stark, stone room was a sharp contrast to the rich opulent surroundings the man had just left.

He was quite handsome. Neatly trimmed dark hair framed a lean, clean shaven, face. His eyes were black as pitch, his nose straight and aristocratic, and his mouth tight and businesslike. His clothes were strictly formal attire, from his leather A. Testoni shoes to his slick Italian-cut suit.

All in all, quite impressive.

"Well?" he asked, in a cool, dry voice.

He spoke to a trio of slender, young women sitting on a number of cushions in a circle. The three were completely identical: blond haired and blue eyed, and dressed in matching pale blue track suits.

The man didn't flinch as a trio of telepathic voices whispered an answer in his head. _All goes as planned._

"Are you certain?"

_Yes._

"And Xavier's people?"

_They suspect nothing._

"Xavier?"

_We are blocking him._

He smirked. "Perfect."

* * *

><p>Several states away, a large bulky figure was striding through dense woodland, heedless of the branches that were catching on his uniform. He cared nothing for the trees that stood in his way, merely bulling through and over them.<p>

Behold the human tank.

And he was going to visit his baby brother.

Blood was thicker than water after all… and it was just as easy to spill.

* * *

><p>Beyond the farthest star, past the most remote galaxy, a bright spot of light shown. Made all of brilliant tongues of fire, the thing was truly a marvelous thing to behold.<p>

But there was something rather terrible about it.

Beautiful but frightening…

In some ways it made the universe better. In other ways, it made it that much more dangerous.

Whatever it was, it was being threatened.

Because there was something approaching it.

A black something was reaching towards it from the cracks of time.

* * *

><p>The rising of the late August sun marked the start of many different events.<p>

All of them marked the beginning of a highly _interesting _year.

**An auspicious start, wouldn't you say? Reviews make life worth while!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay, so it seems that I have misjudged the amount of schoolwork I'm going to have to juggle this semester. I will try to get my chapters up every two weeks. No promises – just know I'm not giving up on this story!**

**Any ideas you can think of, just send me a note!**

Kestrel

Chapter 1

The Institute was in disarray. Taxis and cars clogged the driveway while teens scurried about, dragging suitcases and bags. The usually immaculate lawns now suffered from mats and trenches from footprints, drag marks, and all manner of tread marks. Suitcases, duffel bags, backpacks and all manner of luggage blocked the entrance hall.

And that wasn't even taking into account the mass of humanity (mutant humanity, but whatever) that was clogging every hallway, corridor and passageway.

The instructors' efforts to direct traffic were proving to be utterly futile as old friends reunited and gathered to bemoan the end of summer.

As you can imagine: it was chaos.

To Noelle LeBeau, it was just what she had been waiting for.

"Uhh…" stammered the cab driver, shooting her a nervous glance. "Should I get you all to the curb? Or…?"

Noelle grinned. "Ain' no need fo' dat, _Monsieur_. Jus' get us close as y' can an' we walk from dere."

In the back seat Claire and Graziella were discussing the new training they were to receive in the coming year. Their second year of formal X-Men training would focus much more on fighting, rather than on simple self-defense and basic rescue and evasion tactics.

"What if I cannot remember how to block?" Graziella moaned, wringing her hands.

Claire rolled her eyes and tossed her trademark white bangs. "How many tahmes did we go oveh all dose moves wit' Mama an' Daddy?"

Grazi winced. "_Io so. Io so_… I mean…"

Raising her eyebrows, Claire giggled an answer. "Y' know, y' know… Ah know. Don' worry, ma amie. Even if y' don' got it all down pat, y' still be miles ahead o' de ot'ers."

"_Dis, petites!_" Noelle scolded. "Less talkin' an' mo' walkin'!"

The two young teens exchanged the longsuffering looks they had perfected over the last summer and climbed out of the car. While Noelle paid the driver, Grazi and Claire dragged out the ton of luggage needed to get three girls through an entire school year.

"Look at that," Grazi sighed, motioning to where Noelle was chattering away enthusiastically with the hardened Jersey cab driver. "How does she do that?"

"Noelle's always been a people person, kinda," Claire shrugged, heaving at a particularly stuffed duffel bag.

"_Merci_," Noelle finally said, knocking her knuckles lighting on the man's hood.

"You have a good day, miss!" the cabbie shouted, pulling away and waving.

"How do you do that?" Grazi demanded, staring after the taxi.

"Ah'm a people person."

"She's also an empath," Claire grumbled.

"Aw, sugah, don' make me cut off all dat pretty hair while yo' sleepin'," Noelle singsonged, swinging one of her suitcases over her shoulder.

Trading yet another look (_Older sisters!_), Grazi and Claire gathered up their luggage and followed the older girl to the Institute's congested front door where they were immediately swarmed.

* * *

><p>"Alright," Charles Summers said loudly. "I know we've had differing roommates in the past, and what we are going to expect from each other will be radically different, but the fact remains that we are roommates this year and as such there are certain things we need to discuss."<p>

Silence.

"Okay. So, rule number one: I don't like loud music and I insist on lights being out before eleven. And girls can come in, but – Are you even listening?"

Alexei continued to ignore his new roommate, preferring the dulcet electric guitar solos of Blink 182, to the useless blathering of Charles. It was strange not to have Lucien grumbling over a physics problem across the room. Instead, he had been saddled with Charles Summers. He supposed it was a rather even trade considering he had gotten into a respectable American university with a very prestigious history department, he got to stay longer in the Xavier Institute, and he got to spend time with Julia.

The big Russian felt a very goofy smile spread over his face at the thought of his girlfriend. He was looking forward to her happy babbling update of her summer. He had missed her.

"Alexei! Are you listening to me?"

Note to self: Buy sound isolating headphones and steer clear of his room. _Damn Lucien, why did you have to move to California and leave me alone with this man?_

* * *

><p>James Allerdyce was in the doghouse. He had been following Monica for the past three hours, begging forgiveness.<p>

"I'm sorry, luv! I'm so sorry! I couldn't bloody help it!"

"Well, why don't you just go hang out with her if you like her so much!"

"Luv-"

"Don't talk to me!"

"Monica, I'm sorry – I'm beyond sorry!"

"Sure. Now. But as soon as she comes back, you'll be staring at her breasts again!"

"It was one time and I couldn't sodding help it! She has them all pushed up… it was impossible not to stare!"

His girlfriend, still unappeased, stormed off towards her room.

The English mutant stomped after her. _That Frost woman… I swear I'll melt her and her bloody plastic tits!_

* * *

><p>Sofya Rasputin sighed deeply and pulled out the last picture. Only her mother knew she had brought this picture.<p>

It was from her prom night – the greatest night of her life.

Lucien had sent it to her over the summer, with his new number scribbled on the back.

And seeing as she hadn't spoken to him in almost forty-eight hours, she decided to put the number to the test.

"'Lo?"

"Hi, Lucien."

"_Bonjour, chère_…"

* * *

><p>Jayden Daniels lay flat on his back in the middle of the basketball court, chest heaving and sweat pouring.<p>

"So… best seven out of fifteen?"

He opened one eye to scowl darkly up at Sarah Masters-Summers. "No."

The moment he had finished unpacking, the girl had practically ambushed him and challenged him to a one-on-one basketball match. Being a boy, he had found it impossible to pass up a chance to show off his athletic prowess – even if it was only to Sarah. But she had thoroughly trounced him, and then asked for another game.

"Come on –"

What was it with this girl? Before she had barely said a word a week to him and now she had spoken more to him in one day than she had all of last year.

"Just get lost. Go bother somebody else."

And now her face had gone from that creepy happy look to her more normal blank expression.

She was such a freak.

* * *

><p>Julia and Kelsey squealed at Alana's gift to Tessa.<p>

"I know you're not going to have your baby shower for another few months, but I just couldn't wait." The young shapeshifter handed over a pair of tiny, delicate baby booties.

"These are purple," was Tessa's gracious comment.

Lani blinked. "Well, yeah. Seeing as it's going to be a girl, I thought that would be best –"

"I have decided that Bishop and I do not wish to know the sex of the baby just yet. We will wait until after the child is born."

Now Lani was nothing short of bemused. "But… when I talked to Noelle last week she swore it was going to be a girl. And she's never wrong about that stuff."

Sage gave a little 'hmph' even as she laid a hand on her swollen belly. "That hardly counts. There is always a fifty percent chance that you will be correct."

"What's the chance of being right 18 times in a row?"

* * *

><p>Vincent Boudreaux kept his stance relaxed, his sword at the ready and his eyes on his opponent. He knew better than to underestimate her just because he happened to outweigh her.<p>

They circled each other warily before she moved in to strike.

"_Do not run to engage, Vin-san. Allow them to come to you. Let their rashness defeat them."_

Rather unfortunately, Arashi-sensei hadn't counted on him facing the lovely and terrifying Laura "Talon" Masters-Summers, former HYDRA assassin.

When Vincent made his move to counter, her claws twisted around his sword and went straight for his jugular, one stabbing straight in and the other swinging around for a nasty slash.

"_Two blades are quite different, young man. You cannot allow yourself to fall into the trap of forgetting that two arms hold your weapon. You are allowed to hold the sword in only one hand."_

His blade leapt into his right hand to parry her stab while his left, empty, hand caught her slashing right hand.

HA! He thought triumphantly a split second before he thought OH CRAP! Talon's foot, complete with claw, was zooming upwards to impale his skull.

Curving his spine backwards, the Assassin tossed himself onto his back and out of the woman's strike range. Momentarily out of her strike range.

Vincent sighed at the double claws plunging towards his chest and slammed his feet straight into his teacher's abdomen. She flew backwards like a piñata hit by a baseball bat.

Both parties were snarling in fury when they flew forward to engage each other again.

And then Talon stopped. She turned her head and sniffed daintily.

As an Assassin, he felt perfectly justified in exploiting her momentary lapse in attention. He lunged forward, sword extended and met with a lightning fast jab to his sternum. His feet flew out from beneath him and he landed on his back hard enough to blast every molecule of oxygen from his lungs.

"Your form has drastically improved," the woman said calmly even as she pressed her gleaming claws to his jugular. "We may yet turn you into a decent warrior yet. Now get hit the showers. And scrub thoroughly – you'll need it."

Feeling more than a little insulted, the young man sighed and pulled himself up. His shirt was sticking to his skin and the chain around his neck was warm from his body heat.

Talon, meanwhile, seemed to be losing patience with him. "Vincent. Showers. Now."

"I'm goin'. I'm goin'. God fo'bid I insult yo' delicate nose wit' de stench o' sweat."

"Good. Now hurry up."

The woman was utterly annoying, he grumbled to himself as he stalked off to the guys' changing rooms. The fact that the shower actually felt very nice on his muscles was not to be even thought of. His pride demanded that all of that be ignored.

So he scrubbed himself quickly, changed into a clean pair of shorts and t-shirt, and left the locker room.

And stopped.

"'Ssassin-boy."

A smile.

"T'ief-girl."

A smile.

"How was y' summer?"

"Not bad. Yo's?"

"Cain' complain."

It was weird. They had started off several yards away and now they were inches apart.

Hm. Vincent couldn't remember moving. He was, however, very thankful that he had already showered.

"So," he commented easily. "I t'ink I might have somet'in' o' yo's."

"Realleh." A raised eyebrow and a knowing smirk. "An' wha' mahght dat be?"

He put his hands to the necklace at his throat and slowly drew it off.

"Ah. Dat. An' here Ah was t'inknin' y' f'got."

"Didn' y' t'reaten my manhood, if I los' dis?"

"Did Ah?"

He carefully lowered it over her head, watching it settling just over her breasts. Rearranging her hair carefully, he found his fingers stroking the elegant line of her neck.

"Vincent?" she said at last.

"Yeah, Noelle?"

"Y' gonna kiss meh o' what?"

Damn he'd waited a long time to hear that. So he tipped her head back a touch and pressed his lips to hers in a decidedly _not_ boy scoutish kiss.

They ended up pressed up against the wall, his hands buried in her hair and her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Gross! Spit-swapping!"

Noelle (much to his displeasure) disengaged herself from the kiss and coolly took a rather heavy looking stone carved into the shape of a man. She gave it to him with all the dignity of someone handing a gavel to a Supreme Justice. "Would y' care t' do de honors?"

Hiding a grin, he took it and kissed her hand. _"Mais oui."_

And then he winged it at their intruder.

Once both the missile and its target and disappeared, one yelping and the other whistling through the air, the two Southerners eyed each other.

"I's no use," Noelle sighed. "De momen' has been lost. We gon' have to recapture it upstairs. Preferably bah de pool."

Vincent grinned. "Does dis mean y' missed meh?"

"Maybe a little."

* * *

><p>Dinner was outside in the backyard around a huge picnic table. Every inch of available surface was covered with plates of potato salad, baked beans, coleslaw, watermelon and a fruit salad, corn on the cob, shish kabobs, ribs, burgers, fries… Everything to stretch a man's waistband to its breaking point.<p>

Vincent was in heaven… Japanese cuisine was nice, but there was nothing to compare with glorious artery-clogging American goodness.

"So…" he said, swallowing a mouthful of coleslaw. "What was wit' de voodoo talisman?"

"Oh, dat?" Noelle jerked a thumb in the direction of a sulking Vassily Rasputin who was still rubbing an aching skull where a little stone doll had beaned him. "Y' know _Mémère_ Celestine?"

He frowned deeply. "Celestine Paget? De little ol' voodoo witch in dat hole in de wall store on Iberville?"

"Da's de one. Pulled me an' _les petites_ oveh an' gave us each one. Said we'd need it… somet'in' about evil an' darkness approachin'."

He raised an eyebrow. "Y' believe 'er?"

Noelle shrugged. "Neveh known 'er t' say somet'in' dat didn' turn out t' be write one way o' de ot'er."

A deep groan. "Does dis mean we gon' have a year lahke de one las' year?"

"Well, Ah don' wanna jinx us o' anyt'in' but Ah t'ink Ah can safely say dat yo' mama an' yo' charmin' cousins won' be visitin' us again fo' a whahle. Yo' daddy paid 'em another visit."

Vincent whipped his head around to stare at her. "Deadpool?"

"_Oui_. Seems he turned up in Blood Moon Bayou an' burned a message inta de front lawn."

"Bet Michel loved dat – de gardener," he said grimly. "Wha'd de message say?"

"Somet'in' 'bout sperm, death, and whores. Mah amazin' mutant powers're tellin' meh dat he was givin' dem a warnin' t' stay away from y'."

"My one paren' dat ain' tryin' t' overtly kill me an' he's a lunatic. _Fantastique_."

"Don' be lahke dat – fo' all y' know he's jus' waitin' 'til yo' a threat t' him t' kill y'. A challenge fo' him."

He scowled at her. "Dat's comfortin'."

Noelle flicked his nose. "Stop bein' so dramatic. Fo' now he's on yo' sahde. Enjoy it whahle it lasts."

Vincent opened his mouth –

"If I could have everyone's attention!" the Professor called from his seat at the head of the table.

_Dis ain' over, _he mouthed at his girlfriend. She grinned and winked at him, earning a reluctant smile.

"Now, I know that you all are eager to catch up with each other, but I have a few quick announcements. First, just in case you've forgotten, classes at Bayville High, Middle, and Elementary school will be starting on Monday," Xavier said with a smile at the collective groan from his students.

"Also, tomorrow, we will be expecting our newest students. I expect you all to be especially welcoming – I'm sure you all remember your first few days here. Be as helpful as you can. No pranks, Vassily, Eli."

The resident pranksters grumbled and shifted guiltily.

"Ah'm fo'seein' a stinkbomb sometahme in de near future," Noelle sighed, propping her chin on her hand.

"Better stinkbombs den toilet – OW!"

"_Ferme-la_, y' wanna give dem ideas?"

But it was too late. The next morning, every single tree on the Institute was draped in toilet paper and Logan was roaring in fury.

**Is this what you were looking for, Dholefire?**

**Hope you enjoyed it! Now REVIEW!**

_**Io so. Io so**_** – "I know. I know"**

_**Dis, petites!**_** – "Hey, little ones!"**

"_**Mais oui."**_** – "Of course."**

"_**Ferme-la"**_** – ****"Shut up"**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yes, I am still alive. And I come bearing a new chapter!**

**REVIEW PLEASE!**

Kestrel

Chapter 2

"Okay," Julia Alvers said with a huff. "Explain to me how it is that Vassily and Eli TPed the Institute and _we_ have to clean it up?"

"This is _so _not fair!" Monica complained, stuffing a fistful of raggedy toilet paper into a trash bag.

"I am going to zap them so hard that their kids' hair's gonna stand up!" Kelsey declared angrily, her bright strawberry blond hair frizzy and sparking with static electricity.

The boys were just as angry, though a bit different in their venting.

"I am going to murder him," Alexei said flatly.

"Now, now, mate," James said sourly. "That's not very smart. What would you do with the body?"

"I would give it to you to burn."

"See? Now you're thinking sensibly! But we should ask the expert. Vincent? How would you go about destroying Vassily and Eli?"

Vincent was halfway up an oak tree, tearing its impromptu decorations off the branches, but his voiced opinion was loud and clear. "Torture. Slowly. Acid used in dere somewhere."

Normally, the Professor would have sentenced the two miscreants to cleaning up their handiwork alone, but with the new students and their parents arriving at eleven o' clock sharp, there was no time to waste on fair punishment. Hence the rousing of his students at the glorious hour of 7AM to clear out the mess while Vassily and Eli were left in the loving care of Wolverine and Cyclops.

It wasn't until ten that the last of the toilet paper was cleared out of the trees and the students were ordered back inside to clean up to prepare for the guests.

Unfortunately, the first car came sliding up in front of the Institute fifteen minutes early, while the last of the incriminating garbage bags were being hauled away.

A tall, silver haired man climbed out. He wore a white button-up shirt, steel grey trousers, and a matching blazer draped over one arm. He assisted a nervous-looking young woman out of the car and lifted out a tiny girl with platinum blond hair.

"Erik!" exclaimed the Professor, rolling out to greet them. "It has been a long time, old friend."

The infamous Magneto, known formally as Mr. Erik Magnus Lehnsherr, nodded graciously. "It has, Charles, it has."

"And are these the ladies you were telling me about?"

"They are. If I may, allow me to introduce you to my daughter-in-law, Crystal Roedel Maximoff and my granddaughter Luna."

Crystal had smooth brown hair and clear blue eyes, all of which were stylishly complimented by her brown slacks and sky-blue blouse. Luna had big blue eyes as well, and her pale blond hair was gathered into pigtails. She wore an adorable blue sundress.

The Professor smiled warmly. "Good morning to both of you. I am Professor Charles Xavier, and this is my school for gifted youngsters. If you would be so kind as to step inside, I'd be happy –"

"_I AM GOING TO KILL YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME? KILLLLL!"_

"Or we could stand out here and talk," Storm said smartly, stepping out onto the front steps of the Institute in an elegant white shirt and printed skirt combination.

"What was that?" Crystal demanded, trying to look past the two instructors into the Institute.

Ororo closed the door. "A few of our older students. Boisterous high spirits, you know."

BANG

"_Damn it, get back here and take it like a mutant!" _

"_FOR GOD'S SAKE, WOULD YOU BRATS GET YOUR SHIT IN GEAR!"_

The Professor and Ororo had dropped all pretences of ignoring the chaos that appeared to be going on inside, staring pained at the doors.

"Is this a good time?" Crystal quavered, clutching her daughter to her.

"I had hoped it would be," muttered Ororo.

There was a long moment in which there seemed to be a great amount of scrambling from behind the doors, before the doors opened and a sophisticated looking Monica stepped out.

"Welcome to the Institute, won't you come in?"

The foyer was spotless, though there were a few pairs of shoes and bits of odds and ends on tables and in corners, everything was perfectly arranged to suggest an efficient, but charmingly lived in school.

It seemed impossible that the screams from just a few moments could have come from such an idyllic sight.

And if you didn't look inside the large coat closet to the left, where you'd find Kelsey, Vassily, and Eli being held at claw point by Laura, you'd never know. But you weren't likely to get too close to the closet as Logan was standing in front of it looking particularly grumpy.

"Wolverine."

"Magneto."

A surprisingly courteous exchange, though neither the Professor nor Storm had any intentions of testing how long it would last. The little group hurried past the irate instructor and retreated hastily to the kitchen where a small group (Julia, Noelle, Sofya, and Alana) was gathered around a smoking pan.

A very bad smelling pan.

"Julie, petite, we talked 'bout dis!" moaned Noelle, staring mournfully at the ruined cooking ware. "Y' ain' allowed in de kitchen wit'out supervision!"

"Well, I am sorry, but I wanted pancakes and nobody else was around."

"You could have waited!" moaned Alana, who had somehow managed to make her nose disappear. "Now the whole kitchen smells like… like…"

Sofy muttered something in Russian.

"Exactly! …Um, what was that?"

"You do not want to know," Alexei assured them, walking in from another doorway. "What are you cooking, Julie?"

"Trying to cook! The term is trying to coo-"

That's when Noelle noticed the newcomers. "Mornin' _Professeur_. Stormy. Good t' see y' again, _Monsieur_ Lehnsherr."

The elderly mutant smiled at her. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss LeBeau."

She grinned. "If y'all jus' wanna wait a bit, some breakfast'll be ready soon."

"I am sure we will all enjoy it."

Her smile turned wicked. "Y' betteh, Ah ain' makin' anymo'."

Luna, still clinging to her mother's hand, giggled.

Noelle caught the child's eye and winked. "Eveh had beignets, _petite_?"

* * *

><p>By the time noon had rolled around, all but one of the new students had arrived, and things were definitely looking up. Laura had let the miscreants out of the coat closet and herded them off to a punishment session in the Danger Room, promising them that an extra hour would be added for any complaint.<p>

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, Luna had been quite taken with Noelle's easy and friendly manner, and was happily chattering away to her new friend through a mouthful of beignets and chocolate chip pancakes.

Logan had led the second new kid in. "Charles, another one's here."

His name was Nick Faust. He was lean and rather short, with light brown hair and hazel-green eyes.

He had also appeared to be rather hungry. Right after introducing himself with a curt, "Nick Faust," he zeroed in on a vulnerable pile of pancakes and attacked.

They hadn't seen him since. The running bet was his mutation had something to do with eating truckloads without exploding.

Right after Nick came a rather plump boy with sand colored hair, glasses, and blue eyes.

"Hi. I'm Aidan James. Call me Den."

"What is _that_?" Jayden had demanded, pointing a trembling finger at Den's chest.

Den had frowned and looked down. "What? Oh, yeah. Cowboys fan. Don't judge."

"I just lost all respect for you!"

And now an in-depth discussion of the upcoming football session was raging in the corner.

Soon after came Neveah Tomas from Miami. She was tall and slender with bronze skin and black hair and eyes. Her dangly, sparkly earrings and matching ring had somehow spurred a squealing match between Julia and Kelsey over how 'awesome' they were.

Right after was Jacqueline Merritt, a rather jumpy looking African-American girl. She was short and pitifully thin, clutching a battered guitar case and a threadbare duffel bag and half empty garbage bag.

In the formal dining room, Professor Xavier sat with the parents, grandfather, and social worker of his newest students.

"First of all, let me assure you that I hold your children's safety as my primary concern. As long as they are here, we will do everything in our power to keep them safe."

* * *

><p>Jessica glanced at her watch. They were late.<p>

Again.

Damn it! Why was she always late?

Anyone would think that was her mutant power!

Jessica Ann Dukes.

Mutant ability: a fundamental inability to be on time for anything!

They should have been there three hours ago. Not that she actually wanted to be going, but it was the principle of thing!

Damn airport delays.

"Mom…" she began to whine.

"Do not start, Jessie," her mother snapped, glaring out the windshield of the rented car. "At this point there is nothing we can do. I've called Professor Xavier and he's expecting us."

"I don't even see why I have to come here. Dad said –"

"Your father can think whatever he wants, but the decision is made. You, young lady, are out of control with those powers of yours and you need help. These people can help you."

Jessie scowled out the window. She heard her mother sigh.

"Jessie, sweetheart, I'm sorry. But we just can't afford for you to have another accident. The barn and the corn that we've lost… I don't know how –"

"Okay, Mom, I get it!"

Neither said a word as they got off the highway and entered a town called Bayville. Her father had told her about this town. He had lived in an old Victorian house on the outskirts. _"It was a nice house when we moved in. Didn't stay that way. We were pigs as kids. We finally had to leave when the place was condemned and torn down."_

And now she was going to stay with her father's old arch-enemies.

Ugh. It was _so_ Romeo and Juliet.

Or something like that.

"Here we are," her mother said with forced cheerfulness.

Jessica looked up and stared at the iron gate, then past it at the huge mansion that sat elegantly on green, green lawns.

"It looks beautiful," her mother declared, as though that was the only thing that mattered.

They spoke into the intercom at the gate and were buzzed inside.

The grounds were impressive, Jessie had to admit, gazing at the venerable trees that spread their branches over the driveway.

"Alright, I'm going to go inside and tell them we're here. You stay and get your bags out, okay?"

"Fine."

She made sure to slam the door just harder than was necessary to communicate her anger as her mother hurried away to find Professor Xavier.

Whoever he was.

This wasn't fair, Jessie silently grumbled for the hundredth time. It hadn't been her fault that the power had gotten away from her. Again.

She hadn't meant for the energy to hit the barn.

And punch a hole through it.

And then explode.

Dad had understood. He was a mutant. He knew how it was.

It had been Mom who had yelled and scolded, and insisted on sending her away.

Some mom.

She grabbed a suitcase from the trunk and half threw it onto the ground.

Stupid powers.

Stupid barn.

Stupid Mom.

Stupid everything!

A far off rumbling caught her attention. It was the low and guttural sound of an engine.

Hm. Disregarding her mother's orders – _Stay here? What was she, seven?_ – the girl made her way around the building towards the sound.

Eventually, she came upon a modestly sized wing of the building. The air smelled of motor oil and hot leather, and heavy metal rock rang in the air.

She moved closer.

The garage. Well, this should be interesting. What kind of cars did rich mutants –

Wow.

Oh my.

Jessie could only stare at the tall, lean, utterly gorgeous young side of beef that was lovingly attending to the engine of an old, beat up jeep. He had dark blonde hair, tanned skin, not a speck of fat to be seen… A white, skin tight muscle shirt… loose blue jean shorts…

Oh girl, she didn't have _dreams_ this good!

And then he turned and looked at her.

She melted down into her converses. She hadn't known men could look that good – they most certainly didn't grow them like that back in Kansas.

Then, quite abruptly, she remembered her clothes. A plaid button up men's shirt hanging open over a white tank top, currently stained with ketchup from her lunch at McDonalds'. And of course, today of all days, she had to be wearing her one pair of skinny jeans that made her legs look fat and gave her a hideous muffin top. Her shaggy blond pigtails under the red trucker's cap had looked so chill this morning in Wilson, Kansas, but now she felt like a chubby little nobody in front of this Greek God.

Greek God: "Hey, _mon chaton_."

He spoke French! Be still her heart!

Jessie: (in a very squeaky voice) "Hi."

Greek God: "Y' one o' de new studen's?"

Oh God, he had an accent. How sexy was that? "Yeah… I'm Jessie – I mean Jessica. Jessica Dukes Kansas. I mean, I'm from Kansas! Jessica Dukes from Kansas!"

"Well, Jessica Dukes from Kansas, mah name happens t' be Vincent Boudreaux from Louisiana. _Enchante_."

He pronounced his name "Ven-sahn". Very French.

Very sexy.

Maybe coming here wasn't so bad after all. Not that she was going to tell her mother that, she still wanted to –

"Who y' talkin' to, _cher_?"

Huh? Who said –

Oh God.

Oh no.

A Barbie doll was climbing out from underneath the jeep Greek God Ven-Sahn Boudreaux had been working on. A real Barbie doll: complete with bright hair, smooth skin, big eyes, long legs, and a waist line that had probably never seen anything bigger than a size 6 pair of jeans in its life.

Okay, just breathe (which was rather difficult in her rather snug size 12 jeans). You don't know if they're even an item.

"One o' de new studen's," Greek God Ven-Sahn said as Barbie stood up.

Jessie felt fierce pleasure as the girl fully straightened. Her breasts were bigger.

"_De vrai?_ Oh, sugah, y' late as hell."

Wait. The two had the same kind of accent. Maybe they were cousins! Or better yet, brother and sister! Yeah, that was good. That was awesome!

She nodded. Of course they were related. It just made sense.

Hold on. Had she missed something? Now Barbie was gathering up an armful of tools and laying them on a workbench.

"_D'accord_. Vincent, I be back t' help y' soon as Ah can. C'mon, hun."

Barbie kissed Vincent on the cheek.

Good.

That was so obviously a sister-kiss.

"Where're yo' bags, _petite_?"

Jessie glared. She was a neat inch taller than little miss Barbie.

But then, little miss Barbie was somehow making the oil stains on her white, skimpy tank top look like the latest fashion accessory, while the ketchup stains on Jessie's shirt just looked like the scars of messy eating.

"They're in the front."

"Alrahghty den, le's get to it."

The walk back to the front was very quiet. Barbie's legs were (of course) well muscled and she showed no signs of panting slightly like Jessie was doing.

"Wha's yo' name?"

"Jessie."

"_Enchante_. Mah name's Noelle."

Noelle Boudreaux. It sounded right.

They reached the front of the house.

"And just _where_ have you been, young lady?" stormed her mother, hands on her hips, standing near the car.

"Just getting the lay of my new home," Jessie said in a tone just south of sarcastic.

"An' dat's when she ran inta me," Noelle the Barbie intervened smoothly. "An' Ah offered t' help her get her t'ings insahde."

Her mother was not placated, but gave a tight smile anyway. "Thank you for that."

Since her mother hated making others privy to the tensions in the family, nothing else was said about Jessie wandering off. God forbid anyone think they were something other than one big, happy family, her banishment from her real home notwithstanding.

They dragged her bags inside into the main hallway of the Institute. The place was all stately elegance and some gay designer's attempt at a casual sophisticated coziness.

The Jessie that resented being here hated it.

The Jessie on planet Greek God Vincent thought it was just the coolest, best place she had ever seen.

"Not bad," was her noncommittal answer.

She could hear her mother's teeth grinding.

"Glad y' approve," Noelle the Barbie replied coolly.

She held her tongue. Vincent wouldn't like it if she mouthed off to his sister – from what she had seen, they seemed pretty close.

"Ah, Noelle," came a good natured male voice. "Is this our newest student?"

The Barbie doll grinned at an old man wheeling towards them in a wheelchair. "It is, _Professeur_. Dis Jessie."

"Jessica Dukes," Jessie corrected, conveniently forgetting that she hated being called by her full first name.

"Welcome, Miss Dukes. I see you've already met Noelle."

"Yeah, and some guy Vincent." It would have been a crime not to mention him.

"Ah, yes. Well, Miss Dukes –"

"Jessie, please."

The Professor, for all that he looked older than dirt and was balder than an egg, looked like a nice guy and he smiled kindly at her – and not in a patronizing way, either. "Very well, Jessie. If you and your mother would like to follow me, I'll show you where your room is. Your roommate should still be unpacking."

"Excuse me, sir," her mother interrupted in her 'just wait one moment, young lady/crazy old man/idiot husband(etc.)' tone. "Are you saying that Jessie will have a roommate?"

"Yes, of course. I believe she'll be rooming with Miss Jacqueline Merritt."

While the Professor and her mother got down to the wheres and why fors of roommates, Jessie spotted something truly wonderful.

Vincent of the Greek gods was entering the entrance hall from a side door. His white muscle shirt had several more motor oil stains on his skin.

Mm-mm-mm. Delicious.

"_Dis_! Noelle! Y' gon' be back any time soon an' help me finish up?"

Noelle the Barbie gave him a lazy smirk, complete with endearing crooked dimples, even as she moved closer to him. "An' what, pray tell, d'y' need mah help finishin' up wit'? De car? Or wit' what we were doin' befo'?"

Vincent smirked back. "Remind me what dat ot'er t'ing was again?"

The slender, beautiful girl pressed herself up against Vincent's chest and kissed him.

On the mouth.

With her arms around his neck.

As in not a brother-sister thing.

And Vincent responding, disregarding the grime on both of them, with a very non-sibling like zeal.

Oh.

Suddenly Noelle the stupid Barbie doll pulled away from Vincent and looked straight at Jessie. The two girls looked at each other for a moment.

Jessie looked away first.

She was seriously going to hate it here.

**Jessie takes after her father, no? **

**REVIEW! And give me ideas on where to take the plot!**

_**mon chaton**_** – "my kitten" a casual endearment**

_**De vrai?**_** – "Really?"**

_**D'accord**_** – "Okay"**


	4. Chapter 4

**Timidly peeking out from my hidey-hole. Yes, I am still alive. Unfortunately, my last semester of undergraduate studies completely dominated my attention. On the plus side… tomorrow I am graduating **_**Cum laude**_** with a BA in Psychology and then heading over to Radford for my Masters. Be impressed.**

**So please forgive me.**

**And forgive the shitiness of this chapter. It was cobbled out over several months of stolen moments in between papers and exams. **

**Now… the long awaited:**

Chapter 3

The time? Five thirty in the morning.

The place? The shared bedroom of James Allerdyce and Vincent Boudreaux, both of whom were fast asleep.

And then:

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEP!_

James sat up with a yelp, putting distance between himself and the pillow which chose that exact moment to catch on fire.

The harsh smell of burning cloth, added to the shrill alarm clock, effectively halted Vincent's sleep.

"Wha' de hell?" he squawked, shooting up from his blankets. "_Sacre_! Put dat damn fire out!"

"What damn fi – holy hell!"

The fire immediately cut out, but not before the fire detectors caught a whiff of the smoke. They proceeded to let out earsplitting shrieks as the sprinklers dropped gallons of ice cold water.

Screams and shrieks echoed around them and the sound of doors slamming open echoed down the hallway.

"JAMES!"

Said pyrokinetic immediately proceeded to hide under the bed. "How the bloody hell do they know it was me?"

Vincent scowled at him, kicking himself out from under his blankets and holding his arms over his head. "Who else'd wake us all b'fo' de crack o' dawn by settin' off de fire alarm?"

"Kelsey! She's done this sort -"

The Cajun was about to more fully tear into the young Brit when the door slammed open to reveal a thoroughly soaked Julia. Her oversized Eeyore pajamas hung off her sodden frame and her double braids dripped steadily.

"You stupid, idiotic tea-sucking moron!" she shrieked. "What the hell did you do!"

"I should think it's rather obvious," grumbled James, gingerly plucking at his sopping bedsheets.

"Shut up, James," Julia and Vincent said together, scowling darkly at him.

"MATCHES!" roared a familiar Canadian voice.

"Y' gonna get now," was Vincent's unsympathetic comment.

* * *

><p>The day got no better after that.<p>

After a very loud and lengthy lecture from both Logan and Cyclops, Vincent was forced through a Danger Room session with the innocuous title of 'Search and Rescue – Level 3.'

Instead of leading a group of holographic civilians out of a burning building, he and his team found themselves trying to rescue a roomful of Friends of Humanity from a burning cruise ship during what felt like a Category 4 hurricane in the middle of the ocean. Julia/Bijou was struck by lightning, lost consciousness, and had to be fished out of the water. Alexei/Atlas turned out to have trouble floating and kept sinking. Charles/Cicero refused to stop shouting useless orders that no one could hear over the screaming wind. Noelle/Kestrel ended up taking charge of the situation by punching the leader of the FOH group in the nose, tossing him into a vacant life boat and ordering (in a surprisingly terrifying and no nonsense tone) everyone else to get their asses into a life boat before she threw them overboard herself.

They emerged wet to bone. Water dripped from their clothes and created impressive puddles beneath them.

Their instructors were waiting for them.

Beast looked caught between laughing and looking sympathetic. "Well, that was interesting."

"Dat was not interestin','" Noelle grumbled, wringing out her hair like a towel. "It was a disaster."

"But you adapted and succeeded," Beast said kindly.

"By disobeying your commanding officer," Cyclops cut in. "Is it so difficult to listen to your leader, Kestrel?"

Vincent felt Noelle's temper spark, even as she smiled sweetly. "_Mais non_, Monsieur Summers. Ah merely t'ought dat hangin' aroun' waitin' fo' him t' make up his mahnd while Bijou was drownin' an' Atlas kept sinkin' was not an idea conducive t' survahvin'. Fo'give meh, fo' choosin' lahfe oveh yo' son's feelin's."

Cyclops colored and his face twisted in rage.

"Shut it. The both of you," Logan growled. "Shades, Cicero choked, get over it. Mouse, you did good. Now stop pissing Cyke off and get lost."

"That's enough," Professor Xavier said sternly, with a glance at Cyclops (turning an alarming shade of red). "Noelle, please try and keep your opinions to yourself."

She smiled indulgently at him. "As y' say, _Professeur_. Mah apologies."

Vincent grinned for a moment before a trickled of water made its way down a strand of his hair and began dripping down his face. He scowled at his hair, usually so obedient and becoming when it was longer, as it continued to give his face a thorough (and unwelcome) washing. Grumbling in both English and French, he swept his hair back, then grumbled again as it dripped down the back of his neck and into his ears.

"On the whole, it was a successful exercise. You did succeed in achieving your assignment. However, I do think you all are in need of a round of trust exercises." Xavier pretended not to hear the moans this caused. "When would it be best to start, Logan?"

Wolverine grunted thoughtfully. "After school's started would probably work, Charles. I get the feeling we're gonna need all of their attention for this."

"Quite right. Very well then, you all will be informed about the start of these exercises after your first week of school. For now, hurry and get out of those wet clothes."

No one waited for him to change his mind.

"My God," moaned Julia, still rubbing her aching head, "that was awful!"

"I will say!" agreed Alexei. "I do not think I will ever dry."

Vincent ruffled his soaking hair grimly. "Question."

"Possible answeh," Noelle answered, still wringing out her hair.

"What da hell're trust exercises?"

"They are methods in which people develop mutual respect, openness, understanding, and empathy, as well as helping to develop communication and teamwork skills," Charles immediately answered, sounding as though he had memorized a dictionary.

"_Quoi?_"

"Lahke does stupid fallin' exercises. Y'know… y' t'row y'self offa some platform an' yo' group's s'pposed t' catch ya," Noelle explained, even as she headed to the girls' locker room. "Onleh i's X-Men style an' Wolverine approved."

"Ah crap…" grumbled Vincent. "Hippie exercises."

Noelle rolled her eyes. "Hippie's a derogatory term. But close enough."

He groaned, then winced as an especially large water drop hit his nose.

* * *

><p>Vassily Rasputin slumped down the hall to the kitchen, taking special care to stomp as he passed by any authoritative figure (though not Logan or Laura – God only knew what they would do if they saw him sulking). Why was it that he had gotten a more severe punishment than Eli? The little brat had been just as much to blame for the toilet paper as him!<p>

It was because Vassily was older – a full year older than Eli Wagner, his partner in crime. The powers of the Institute had assumed that Vassily, as the elder, had been in control of the plan. That was a load of crap – it had all been the blue runt's idea anyway.

Still mentally grumbling, he entered the kitchen to see several rows of sour faces all glaring darkly at him.

Ah, that's right, everyone was still pissed at him.

Well, fine. That was just fine!

He scowled, refusing to look at his silent accusers as he put his breakfast of cereal together. Being careful to slam the refrigerator door as he put the milk away, Vassily turned to leave –

And dropped his bowl.

_Derr'mo._

Who was that?

He stared at the girl staring back at him. She was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, with red flip-flops. Her bright yellow hair was in charmingly messy ponytail, with shining strands framing her face, which was oval-shaped, with large grey-hazel eyes, a straight, short nose, a neat small mouth, and a dimpled chin.

Who was she?

"What are you looking at?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice – an American accent with a slight drawl – and managed to wrench his gaze away from hers. He bent his trembling knees to gather the pieces of his shattered bowl, wondering that they could not all hear his heart thundering.

Who was she? He hadn't seen her before.

She hadn't been at dinner – he would have seen her.

Was she one of the new students? What was her name? Where was she from?

Did she have a boyfriend?

"Vassily? Are you alright?"

Vassily stiffened at the sound of Professor Xavier's voice. _Please don't be reading my mind. Please don't be reading my mind. Please don't –_

"Yes, Professor, I was… not thinking… Forgive me…"

"That is quite alright, Vassily. Now. Since everyone is here, may I introduce our newest student? She was too tired to join us for dinner last night, but felt herself well enough to join us for breakfast. May I present Ms. Jessica Dukes?"

The mystery girl looked at them all with a cool, aggressive air. "Call me Jessie." The jut of her chin and the challenging set of her shoulders dared anyone to call her anything else.

The Professor only smiled. "I hope you will all continue to extend a welcoming hand to our new students. Now. As I'm sure you are all aware, the day after tomorrow is the first day of school."

There was a loud, collective sigh.

Xavier's smile took on a slightly smirk-like quality. "I can see you are all looking forward to it. As I was saying, there will be a last minute run to the store for school supplies this afternoon. Please make certain to sign up if you don't have all that you will need. Mr. and Mrs. Drake will answer any questions."

Now Vassily liked the Professor as much as the next guy, but he wished he would shut up and go away so he could introduce himself to the new girl, Jessie. As the man droned on and on about team assignments – with the newer students and the loss of older ones new teams would have to be made. Let him be with Jessie!

* * *

><p>Vincent added a few more lines to his sketch of Institute's grounds. He was sitting on the roof of the mansion, sketching away and trying not to think of the Professor's private talk with Alana, James, Monica, Sofya, Noelle, and himself. But of course, since he didn't want to think about it, he was hearing the Professor's voice rather than the not so soothing rap tones of Jay-Z.<p>

"_I'm sure you are all aware of how important and special the coming school year will be."_

_And he had had no idea what the hell the man was talking about._

"_Have any of you given any thought about where you would like to do after graduation?"_

_Wait. Graduation? After?_

_Alana perked up. "I was thinking about studying teaching. The University of Maryland looks really good."_

_Oh shit…_

_James shrugged. "I'm going to apply Oxford and Cambridge – Mum wants me to stay close and become a lawyer. I – and don't tell her this – want to be a writer like Dad. But good stuff, not that bloody romance. I also want to apply at NYU. Just to freak Mum out."_

_Okay… colleges… colleges… Don't look like an idiot._

_Sofy smiled shyly. "Berkley is a great law school. I would like to become an activist for mutant rights. There are other colleges – but I'm most interested in Berkley."_

_Oh crap… he needed something to do… What could he do after high school?_

_Monica leaned forward eagerly. "I want to study medicine. I've already contacted NYU, Colombia, Yale, and Harvard, and I've got visits planned for next month with my parents."_

_Shit! Why hadn't anyone told him about this? He had nothing!_

_Noelle volunteered next. "Ah wanna go t' eit'er de University o' Virginia o' Colombia University f' psychology. De way t'ings're lookin' rahght now, Ah could get a decent scholarship at eit'er."_

_Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit… Come on, brain! Gimme somet'in'!_

"_Vincent?" the Professor looked kindly at him. "Have you given this any thought?"_

_He hadn't expected such an outright question. "No."_

Even now his cheeks flushed with the memory of the surprised looks given to him by the others.

But God, what had they expected?

Up until a few months ago, he had had every intention of going back to his guild in New Orleans – no degree, or diploma needed. Of course, the insanity between Belladonna and Deadpool (he was now constantly wondering where his relative normalcy had come from out of those two maniacs) had changed all of that.

Now he was a normal guy who would be graduating high school – with a diploma, X-men training, and fully developed mutant powers.

Well, technically he was still a Prince. Noelle had told him that his family had only informally cast him off; when the Thieves formally banished you, you could never come back. When Assassins banished you, you were hunted down like a duck. But with the intervention of dear old daddy Deadpool, he was only informally banished.

Which translated into: "Okay buddy, we can't track you down and make you beg for mercy repeatedly before we kill you because your crackpot father has threatened us with maiming, torture, and death. So just stay the hell out of our way, and our town. And if you come back to Blood Moon Bayou, we won't stop shooting at you until there's nothing left but a bloody pulp."

A rough translation, but he got the picture.

Vincent groaned, put his sketch aside, and sprawled on the roof.

Damn life and all its complications!

* * *

><p>Sunday morning saw Luna Maximoff sitting on the steps of the Institute and staring after the big car that was carrying her mama and grandpa away. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she clutched her yellow teddy bear close to her chest.<p>

Her mama had told her that she was going to be living here for a while, but Luna hadn't realized what that meant until her mother had actually begun putting her things into the car and kissed her good-bye. Now she was all alone in this big house and no one –

"Wha's dis? Ah, _chérie_, if y' cry any more y' gon' make it rain."

Miss Noelle was crouching down beside her, eyes kind.

"Why'd Mama leave?"

"She's gotta go t' work, doesn' she?"

Luna's lip trembled. "W-why didn't she take me with her?"

Miss Noelle gently tugged at Luna's pale blond hair, "'Cuz we got a lot t' teach ya, _chérie_. Me especially."

"I don't understand."

"Yo' an empath, _petite_. Same as me. Da Professeur t'inks mebbe Ah kin help y' control dose powers."

"What's an empath?"

Miss Noelle sat down beside her, stretching out her long legs. "An empath's someone who kin feel an' control ot'er people's feelin's."

Wait. What?

"I can do that?"

A bright smile spread across the older girl's face. "Y' wanna trah?"

Luna bit her lip for a moment, then nodded. "Yes please."

"_D'accord_. Close y' eyes. Dat's good. Now. Ah wan' y' t' listen. Ignore all de talkin,' de birds, de wind… listen – feel de air an' go deeper an'-"

It was a funny feeling. Luna could hear everything that was going on around her, but as Miss Noelle spoke quietly beside her, she felt something… touch her. Like a feather – but inside.

She peeked open one eye and had to hold in a gasp. The world was glowing different colors. The trees, the grass… she snuck a look down at her hands. Her fingers glowed soft pale gold, and pink under that, running along the blue lines in her wrists that her mother called veins.

Luna looked at Miss Noelle and gasped in delight. Miss Noelle was all gold and silver, with soft streaks of blue and purple mixed in with a hint of green. It was all very pretty.

"See it?" The smile on Miss Noelle's face said she already knew the answer.

But Luna nodded anyway. "Yes… like a rainbow… it's so pretty."

"Yeah, it is. All dat y' seein' is emotion. De trees're happy. Dey know dey've been heah fo' a long tahme. An' dey know dey'll stay heah fo' a whahle longeh. Dey're wise an' patient."

Luna just sat back and listened to Miss Noelle describe how the different colors signified the different emotions.

After a while, she couldn't help but interrupt to ask, "Who taught you?"

"Ah taught mahself. Empaths as strong as us don' come along vereh often, cherie. Dere ain' dat many o' us. Ah'll do mah best t' teach y' what Ah can, an' den y' can go home wit' y' _Maman._" Miss Noelle cocked her head. "We got ourselves a deal?"

Luna nodded vigorously.

"_Bon_. Firs' t'ings firs'. Get up offa de steps 'fo y' get stepped on. Secon', who is dis handsome bear?"

Luna giggled and offered her yellow bear out for inspection. "His name is Sunshine."

Miss Noelle very solemnly shook Sunshine's paw. "I's an honor t' make yo' acquaintance, _Monsieur_."

* * *

><p>Jessica scowled fiercely as she tried to suck in her stomach unobtrusively. This damn X-Man uniform looked like it had been designed specifically to highlight every single roll and muffin top she possessed.<p>

She shot a sour look at Barbie-Noelle with her toned stomach and her decidedly not pudgy thighs. _Her_ uniform had been quite obviously custom made, as it showed off her generous breasts, slender waist, and lean arms.

Nothing like the plainly identical uniforms she and the other new students had been forced into.

The young woman's mood only worsened as she subtly spied on Gorgeous-Vincent and Barbie-Noelle.

Vincent was running his hand through his longish, scruffy blond hair. "It was a pain in my ass durin' Saturday's rescue mission from hell."

Noelle chuckled and ruffled his hair. "Well den, _homme_, de solution seems pretty clear. Cut it."

He grumbled. "What if it comes out bad?"

The girl tossed her perfectly cut bangs out of her face. "What are y' complainin' about? We de ones who're gon' have t' look at it. Y' jus' have t' wear it."

Jessie nearly snarled outright. Was this what passed for a girlfriend these days?

Vincent scowled at her. "Should I apologize in advance fo' de pain an' sufferin' my hair's gon' cause y'?"

His girlfriend put her nose into the air dramatically and sniffed haughtily. "Nothin' but sheer grovelin' would save y'."

The two met each other's eyes with dignity.

Vincent snorted.

A reluctant smile tugged at Noelle's lips.

And then they both burst out laughing.

Jessie tried not to grind her teeth.

"So den, what would y' recommend?" he gasped out at last.

Noelle cradled her chin in one hand and eyed him speculatively. Finally, she reached out and ran her fingers through a particularly long few strands of his hair. "Ah have an idea. But y' gon' really need to trust me."

Jessie wondered just what it would be like to run her hands through that long blond mess. She sighed longingly and sent an even greater surge of jealousy towards the girl who got to touch it.

Of course, said girl turned her head slightly and raised an eyebrow at her.

But thankfully the short, angry guy Logan came and started barking out orders, one of which, happily enough, included, "Mouse! Knives! Enough with the kissy faces!"

This put her in a very good mood.

Then she was dropped into a battle for her life amongst a group of lunatics, but what Logan and the big blue Mr. McCoy called "mutant dodgeball".

As she was knocked out of the game (literally) with a ball to the nose, Jessie began serious thought to running off and offering her services to a traveling circus.

**I could use some help with Vincent's future plans... Any ideas?**

_**Sacre **_**– literally means "holy"… but can also be translated roughly as "Damn!"**

_**Mais non**_** – "Of course not"**

_**Quoi?**_** – "What?"**

_**Derr'mo.**_** – Russian (phonetically spelled) for "shit"**


	5. Chapter 5

**Alright, so obviously I'm going to be updating a lot slower this time around. Work is kicking my ass - getting ready for grad school... the excuses just go on and on.**

**If you all haven't noticed, Sniper and Kestrel both have new images. Hot damn, I can be productive...**

**Character and school focus this chapter. **

**ENJOY!**

Chapter 4

Monday morning, the first day of school, was a study of chaos. People were rushing about, desperately pulling on clothes and readying their bags and books.

And in one very important case, getting their hair readied.

Noelle bit her lip and tried heroically to contain the sidesplitting laughter threatening to burst out and knock her onto her back. But seriously, the look on Vincent's face as he stared at his newly cut hair in the mirror was almost too good to pass up.

"Well?" she asked as calmly as possible.

He raised a shaking hand to his shorn hair. "I t'ought y' said y' was only gonna trim it!"

"Ah don' believe Ah eveh said Ah was onleh gon' trim it. Mah exact words were: cut it."

She set her hands on her hips and stared at his haircut critically. She had learned to cut guys' hair by experimenting on her brother – often resulting in disasters, bald spots, and rants from her mother – and could now do it tolerably well. Now, it seemed practice had paid off.

Her boyfriend's overly long hair had been mostly cut off – unlike her father and brother, his face wasn't the optimal shape for longer hair – and been put into a style similar to that of a soldier. It was crew cut short around the nape of his neck and around his ears, and longer at the front and on top.

She ruffled it and smiled at the tousled look this produced. It made his face sharper, but not overly so, and emphasized the fine shape of his forehead.

Vincent kept running a hand through his hair, mouth half open. "Well… uh… dis wasn' what I was expectin'."

A smirk spread across her face. "So Ah gathered."

He turned his head from side to side. "M' head feels lighter."

She nodded. "Dat c'n happen afteh a haircut."

He shot her a dark scowl before turning back to further evaluate his new look. "Why did –"

"Oh my dear GOD!"

The two Southerners turned to see the new girl, Jessie, framed in the door of the bathroom, her face frozen in an expression of horror.

"_What have you done to your hair?_" she squawked.

Vincent was now looking distinctly panicky. He swung his gaze back to the mirror and frantically looked at himself from every angle. "It don' look dat bad!"

Noelle was no longer amused. "Y' disapprove o' mah work, Jessie?"

She had been aware of the girl's attraction towards her boyfriend – one part actual attraction and nine parts lust – as soon as she had laid eyes on her. While she knew perfectly well Vincent was unaware of this new occurrence and loyal to her and their relationship, she was less than pleased that the new girl had been trying to hit on her boyfriend. She was even less pleased that the girl was insulting her hard won (on her brother's end) ability to cut hair.

"It was so much better before! It had a whole… Fabio thing going on."

Vincent made a noise similar to being strangled. "FABIO! I looked like freakin' Fabio?"

Okay. Enough.

"Vincent! Shut up. It looks fahne. Jessie. First off, Vincent's face is de wrong shape fo' long hair. Anyt'in' dat reaches past his shoulders is gonna make him look lahke somebody let de air outta his face.

"Breathe, cher, y' were still adorable.

"An' y' add t' dat our mo' _strenuous_ afteh-school activities, not t' mention Vincent's inabiliteh t' do anyt'in' mo' den wash an' brush his hair makes him havin' long hair seem slightleh pointless. Too much work when he won' even take care o' it."

Jessie didn't look at all mollified. As a matter of fact, she looked about ready to make some cutting retort that would make her look foolish and give Vincent even more groundless unhappiness over his new haircut.

Noelle sighed to herself. Looks like it was time to get nasty.

"Bah de way, Jessie, wha's wit' de sudden int'rest in mah boyfriend's haircut? If y' hate it so much, jus' don' look at it – an' make sho' dat yo' own boyfriend neveh gets dis kind o' haircut."

The younger girl's emotions lit up with anger, indignation, an unhealthy load of jealousy, and a sprinkle of hurt, but she made an effort to defend. "I just thought a real girlfriend would listen to her boyfriend and not make him look the way she wanted him to look!"

"Assez." Well, it was about time the man of the hour decided to step in. Vincent's eyes were narrowed as he glared at Jessie. "I don' remember ever askin' f' yo' opinion, _Jessica_. I asked ma petite amie t' cut my hair an' she did. Y' got no need t' be involvin' yo'self."

Mon Dieu.

Jessie's face fell – though her hostility had not abated one speck towards Noelle – and she hurried away. Vincent closed the bathroom door non too quietly

Noelle leaned against the chair Vincent had been sitting in when she had cut his hair, and sighed. "Y' certainly changed yo' tune 'bout de cut."

His dark look didn't budge. "Wasn' her place t' say dat. I trust y' t' do a good job."

She smiled at him. "Y' words say one t'ing, but yo' blood pressure's sayin' anot'er."

A corner of his mouth tugged upwards. "I guess it ain' so bad. Be easier t' keep clean. An' it won' get int' m' eyes so easy."

"O' drip," she added.

He grinned. "O' drip."

Still smiling, the young woman set about putting the clippers, scissors, and comb away. She had just finished zipping the tools away in their case when her boyfriend's lean, muscled arms wrapped around her waist. "I take it y've come t' love y' new hair cut."

"Still gettin' used t' it. But I have t' admit, I am quite taken wit' m' hairstylist."

"Mmmm…" She twisted around to face him and entwined her arms around his neck. "Tell meh mo' 'bout dis hairstylist. Should Ah be jealous?"

It wasn't until they had spent roughly ten or twenty minutes heatedly making out against the bathroom's vanity counter that they left, leaving a line of highly disgruntled housemates who had spent the last five minutes pounding on the bathroom door.

Sauntering out without any sign of apology, the two Southerners made their way to the kitchen. Noelle was pleased at the amount of approving looks Vincent's new haircut was drawing.

"So…" Vincent said, taking her hand and swinging it between them easily. "What's up wit' dat girl? Wha's her name? Jessie?"

Noelle rolled her eyes dramatically. "Are y' tellin' moi y' don' know?"

She laughed and tossed her hair.

And then caught sight of his expression. "Merde, y' really don' know. Mon Dieu, Vincent, didn' yo' mama teach y' anyt'in'? Dat girl seriousleh has a t'ing fo' ya."

He stared at her. "Oh. Damn. I t'ought she would back off when she saw ya."

His girlfriend snorted. "Lemme give ya' a quick story, mon cher. Once dere was a big, mildly dopey young man bah de name o' Fred Dukes. Now, he was a mutant an' had de rat'er unfortunate nickname o' 'Blob'. On his firs' day at Bayville High, he met a young lady called Jean Grey. He immediateleh decided dat he was in love wit' de lovely Miss Grey. He den proceeded t' kidnap her an' force her t' be his girlfriend. When dat – strangely enough – didn' work, he got nasteh, an' ma mere an' de X-Men had t' come an' rescue Miss Grey an' knock some much needed sense into him."

She gave her boyfriend a sweet little smile. "Guess who Miss Jessica Dukes is?"

Vincent ran a hand through his newly short hair. "Hell. Well… least I'll be harder f' her t' kidnap." He shot her a hopeful look. "Yo' sho' it looks alright?"

Noelle laughed lightly and ruffled his hair. "Jus' wait 'til de little girls at school see ya. Dey'll be screamin' lahke little girls at a Justin Bieber concert – if y'll excuse de comparison."

"I's painful, cherie… truly painful."

* * *

><p>"If you are NOT in the car in the next five minutes I will LEAVE you!" Bishop roared up the stairs.<p>

Claire groaned even as she jammed her notebooks into her messenger bag. "Why's de firs' day always lahke dis?"

Graziella was trying to tie her shoes at the same time as she wrapped a scarf in her curly, dark brown hair – two actions that were not proving to be entirely compatible. "This will be my very first real first day of school."

Claire swung her bag up onto her shoulder and began trying to give her gloves and long sleeves a final tug to get them straight. "Well, it ain' anyt'in' t' write home about!"

The two young girls lurched to their feet (the knots on Grazi's shoes were flopping uselessly loose) and ran out the door, clutching their bags. They careened down the hall and crashed down the stairs.

There was already a mass exodus of the student body to reach their modes of transportation.

Claire called a swift goodbye to Noelle as her sister elbowed her way to the garage and her motorcycle.

"Bye, _petite_! Don' get arrested!"

Not for the first time, Claire realized just how bizarre her family was.

She climbed into the SUV – it was actually a minivan but Lucas Bishop refused to admit he drove anything so emasculating as a minivan, and so it was euphemistically called an SUV – and settled in beside Grazi. "How's dis yo' firs' day o' school? Didn' y' go t' school in Italy?"

Grazi immediately became very interested in the straps on her shoulder bag. "My mother and father did not think school would be the best place for me, considering my… condition."

It wasn't hard to translate that: "My parents didn't want anyone they had a mutant freak for a daughter."

"Ah…" she looked her friend straight in the eye. "Ah understand. Well, take it from a veteran. It's a pain in de ass. Dey jus' spend de whole day tellin' us stuff we already know – it's de beginnin' of a week o' time wastin'."

The Italian giggled and tugged at her green and yellow scarf.

* * *

><p>Bayville High School had a new principal. Principal William Pierce spoke to them over the intercom in a soft, deep voice. He made no mention of mutants, seeming to prefer terms such as "the <em>entire<em> student body" and "solidarity among the rising generation".

Sofy couldn't decide if she liked him or not. She traded glances with James. He rolled his eyes and laconically turned his attention more fully to their AP French teacher.

A paper was suddenly shoved towards her. _Long winded, isn't he?_

She grinned and hastily scribbled. _Better longwinded than openly prejudiced._

By the time Principal Pierce wrapped up his speech, it was almost twenty minutes into class. Madame Blanchette was not pleased.

* * *

><p>Jessie scowled darkly at her schedule. Who the hell had given the Professor the idea that she wanted to be in Honors and AP courses? She had been an average student back in Kansas, and was completely proud of it, thank you very much!<p>

She stole a glance at the big, quiet Russian who sat in the chair beside hers.

What was his name again?

Craning her neck, she caught sight of the name very neatly printed on the front of his binder. Vassily Rasputin.

Rasputin? Jessie wrinkled her nose.

That zombie voodoo man from that Anastasia movie?

She slanted another look at him.

He was one of the biggest guys she had ever seen – taller than herself, which didn't happen very often – but also one of the quietest.

He also happened to be the only other Xavier kid in her class. She should play nice.

Swallowing a grimace, she took a deep breath and pasted a smile across her cheeks.

"Hey… um… it's Vassily, right?"

The young man jumped so violently he nearly fell over in his chair. He jerked his head around to stare at her. He had thick black hair cut short in an almost military style, and eyes the color of hammered steel. His face had strong lines, and he would have looked almost fierce if it wasn't for that deer in the headlights, or the rabbit cornered by the wolf, expression on his face.

"Yes. Yes. I am Vassily. And… and you are… you are Jessica?"

His voice was nervous, almost as though he wasn't quite sure what he was saying. Did he not know English very well?

Jessie decided to be kind. "Yes. I'm Jessica. But you can call me Jessie, okay?"

He smiled slowly. "Very well. It is very nice to make your acquaintance, Jessie."

"Likewise, I guess…"

* * *

><p>Vassily desperately searched his mind for something to say. He had been utterly speechless during first period Honors English, and unable to say a single word.<p>

Think! Think!

"How has your first day been?"

Really? REALLY?

Jessie shrugged. She was in blue jean capris and a white blouse today, with her hair in a neat, short ponytail, her bangs in a messy swoop across his forehead.

Way too cute for his lame question.

"Not so bad. But… do we really have to take all these crazy Honors classes?"

He could answer that. "It is meant to be a sign of the equal intellect and dedication to education among humans and mutants."

She rolled her eyes. "Seriously? That's so stupid!"

He grinned and nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Yes, I know!"

"So what's your schedule look like?" she asked.

Vassily bit his tongue to keep himself under control. She wanted his schedule!

Nonchalant! Cool! Do not make yourself look like an idiot!

"Uh…" was his witty reply as he pulled out his schedule. "Would you like to see?"

She smiled and held out a paper. "Sure. Here, we can trade."

Vassily tried to gracefully reach over and take the proffered paper. Instead, he found himself snatching stupidly until he grabbed her schedule all while he jabbed his own paper at her.

Trying very hard not to be creepy, he scrutinized every inch of her schedule. First period with him. Third period with him. Lunch with him in sixth period. And study hall during eighth period with him.

Wait. Did he sound stalkerish?

Crap. He did.

He snuck a peek at her – a few strands were hanging in front of her blue-grey eyes.

What the hell – she was worth it!

* * *

><p>Vincent stared out the window and dreamed he was somewhere else.<p>

_Why'd I ever t'ink Art History would be interestin'?_ he wondered glumly.

Answer: Because he had wanted to take something else besides the usual high school classes. And because his AP scores had been shockingly good (he had gotten fours on every one, except AP Chemistry (3) and AP French (5)), the Professor and the rest of the staff had been quite eager to get him into more college prep courses.

Though what use that was going to be when Vincent had no idea what he wanted to do with his life after high school was debatable.

But for better or worse, he was stuck in AP Art History class.

He sighed and turned his attention to the huge book taking up the majority of his desk. _Art Through the Ages_ was the thickest book he had ever seen in his life. It also happened to be filled with amazing pictures of different works of art from around the world. Just flipping through the pages made his fingers itch to begin sketching.

As the teacher (what was his name again?) continued to go over the syllabus, he let his mind wander.

Really, what good were all these advanced classes? Or the scholarship from the art competition?

He had no idea what he was going to do with the rest of his life.

Noelle. Noelle was going to be a part of his life. There was no doubt about that.

He wasn't going to give up the X-Men, either. They were as much a part of him as Noelle was now.

His gaze slid over to the doodle he had absently been sketching in the margins of the syllabus.

He added a sword to his drawing of Deadpool ice-skating on a rapidly melting iceberg. What? He was freaking bored!

"And of course, once the AP exams are over, there will be the final project." The as-yet-unnamed teacher gave them all a very significant look over the top of his glasses. "Which will make up forty percent of your grade."

A unanimous groan.

"I knew you all would be pleased. Now, the final project will involve a trip to the Metropolitan Museum in New York."

There was an instant current of interest.

"But we'll talk about the rest later," he smirked.

Vincent (and the rest of the class) scowled. Crafty bastard.

* * *

><p>It was a nervous and ill-dressed group of teenage mutants that stood in front of the short, but formidable figures of Mr. Logan and Ms. Laura.<p>

Jessica felt like a sausage stuffed into a too small wrapper. The training uniform she had been given felt like it had been intended for someone two sizes smaller. It pinched along her shoulders and made her less than skinny stomach look even more like tapioca pudding than usual. She was seriously giving St. Nick a run for his bowl full of jelly stomach.

"Welcome to your first Danger Room session," Ms. Laura said in the same kind of voice a weary demon might use to welcome one into hell. "Here is where you all will begin the training necessary to learn control over your powers. For most of you, that will be as far as most of you will go. You will find the X-Men training too strenuous. This will not be held against you. All we ask is your best and the ability to immediately obey orders."

_Rewr_. Jessie arched an eyebrow at the woman's tone. _She needs to remove the stick up her ass._

Thankfully, the exercise wasn't too hard.

It turned out to be a revival of an old middle school torture device: dodgeball.

"Your first lesson will be: realization," their humorless instructor said, effortlessly rolling a wandering ball up onto her foot and then up into her hands like some kind of soccer goddess. "As in, the realization of your powers. For now, you all will practice using your powers on command. By the end of this lesson, I will expect each of you to shoot fire, blow bubbles, turn yourself inside out, etc. on command."

The black girl from Washington D.C. raised a trembling hand.

Though they were roommates, Jessie had forgotten her name already. The girl was just so damn quiet! And her clothes smelled like garbage bags.

Seriously. Ick.

"Yes, Miss Merritt?"

"Um. M-my powers aren't exactly… building friendly. And they're kind of useless for dodgeball."

Ms. Laura scoffed. "The mark of any successful mutant, X-Man or civilian, is the ability to use his or her powers wisely and creatively. Expand your mind to the possibilities. And don't whine."

Mr. Logan looked like he was fighting a smirk. "Now that that's been said, let's get to it."

He gave a full on vicious smirk. "Begin."

Silence.

_I'm looking for a word_, Jessie thought sarcastically, _and that word is anticlimactic._

No one moved.

The Mexican (Cuban?) chick was looking around nervously, plucking the neck of her uniform. The fat boy with the glasses was eyeing the dodge balls warily. 'Miss Merritt' twisted her hands stupidly.

In the end, it was the short guy with the cute green eyes who took the initiative, swept up a ball and threw it straight towards Jessie's face.

She screamed and swung her arms up to cover her face. Even through her eyelids she could see the bright red light that now enveloped her arms, so she opened her eyes just in time to see the red, rubber ball careening towards her nose.

Maybe it was the red light or maybe it was sheer instinct.

Whatever it was, Jessie ripped the ball out of the air before it made contact with any part of her head and hurled it back at her attacker.

He yelped and dove out of the way, letting it hit the Hispanic girl instead.

Whatever her name was got the ball flush in the stomach, knocking her onto her backside with a high pitched _oof_.

Instantly, the lights of the room glowed so brightly it was as if the sun had suddenly decided to pay them all a visit.

After that, chaos erupted.

* * *

><p>The alarms sounded loudly just as Noelle had bitten into a peach.<p>

"Ah man!" Jayden complained from where he was scarfing down Oreos. "The newbies are trashing the Danger Room! They better not make us clean up."

"What in the world could they possibly be doing?" Julia demanded. "I mean, does anyone actually know what their powers are?"

"Well," Noelle said briskly, tossing the last bit of the fruit into her mouth and the pit into the trash. "Dere's onleh one way t' fahnd out."

And so that was how they found themselves crammed into the viewing deck of the Danger Room.

Despite the innocent setting of "Mutant Dodgeball" displayed on the computer, what was happening below didn't resemble the game by any stretch of the imagination. On the contrary, it bore a strong resemble to a half-dozen teenaged mutants, all of whom seemed to have completely lost control over their powers.

In the corner a group of honest to god redwood trees was slowly but steadily punching their way through the floor to create a wall of tree trunks. Someone appeared to be huddling behind them – though it was difficult to tell in the blinding light coming off one of the students. Who seemed to be blinding him or herself, judging by the way he or she was running crazily in circles, bouncing off the walls. In another part of the room, three barely visible figures had apparently abandoned the idea of sportsmanship and given themselves over to wildly lobbing the rubber balls at each other at point blank range.

Or rather, two of them were. They had ganged up on a tall figure with glowing red arms, flinging the dodge balls at him/her with savage ferocity.

"Um… wow."

"That's one way of putting it," Beast said mildly from where he was double checking a well stocked first-aid kit.

"Do you think they will knock the house down?" Sofy murmured from her perch on the control panel.

"Doubtful," Sarah said flatly. She had been in a bad mood since her latest flirting attempt with Jayden had failed epically last night.

"The Big Bad Wolf they are not," agreed Monica with a toss of her blond hair.

* * *

><p>In the end it took Badger (or The Tiger, or whatever the hell he called himself) letting out a roar that would put a rocket engine to shame to bring the disastrous first session to a close.<p>

Good thing too. If any of those asswipes had seriously nailed her, Jessie had already decided she would pound them past dust.

On the whole, the young girl thought it had all gone quite well. No one had died or been maimed.

Even their two creepy teachers seemed pleased.

"It wasn't the worst I've ever seen," was Badger/Tiger/whatever's stellar compliment.

"Hm," said his ever stoic partner/daughter/ clone.

They all received lectures. Fifteen minutes of boring crap that essentially boiled down to: "don't panic next time".

Then they were released.

First Danger Room session: a success.

**Not my greatest, but it's finally done. Now to go on to the next chapter... hopefully that won't take me as long.**

**So kindly review...**

**PS. Thinking about throwing some Avenger cameos in - just 'cause the movie was awesome... seriously... where do men like Jeremy Renner, Chris Hemsworth, and Mark Ruffalo come from so I can order one?**


	6. Chapter 6

**So, as you can see my reviewing speed is shit this time around. I am NOT giving up on this story – and I am going to get one chapter up a month (may it please God).**

**So be gentle (and keep in mind this was written/cobbled together over several months in my dwindling free time).**

**Also: WANTED, A BETA READER… promise your workload won't be heavy… or often.**

Chapter 5

"First Danger Room session: Complete and utter shit," Jessie muttered sourly.

Over the past week at dinner she had been treated to emphatic complaints of the older students about their own Danger Room session, griping on how stupid and hard they were, and could hardly reconcile the moans with her own session.

Now, having gotten up early (on a _Saturday_, no less) to watch one of these alleged sessions, she understood. She understood that what she had suffered through yesterday was sunshine and kittens compared to what these people were doing. Not just any people, either. Vincent Boudreaux and his stupid girlfriend Noelle.

And how come they got such nicer uniforms? There wasn't a spot of neon yellow or love handle in sight.

Stupid Institute.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX

Vassily nervously peeked around the side of the door.

He wasn't stalking, he told himself firmly. He was not. He was only here to invite the new student up to eat pancakes.

It had nothing to do with her cute bangs or freckles or…

Ahem. Anyway.

He wasn't stalking.

"Uh… hey, Jessie right?" As if he hadn't been going over and over her name for the past three days.

She jumped and spun around to face him.

The sight of her in a pink, woven, see through, blouse with a camisole beneath that, all over jeans and ballet flats made his brain stutter. "Um… uh… Storm… Ms. Ororo… she is – she is making pancakes. Would you… do want – I mean, do YOU want any?"

The girl scoffed and patted her stomach. "Like I need to be eating pancakes."

Vassily instantly frowned. "What do you mean?"

Jessie turned around and jabbed a finger down at the figures of his brother Alexei's team. "Noelle Freakin' LeBeau. Age Sixteen. Has probably never weighed more than one hundred and fifteen pounds her whole life. But you can bet your ass she's never had to go without pancakes to keep her pants from getting too small."

His thoughts couldn't seem to process this. "You are jealous of Noelle?"

The blonde sputtered. "Please, me jealous of her? As if!"

"Good. Because you should know that you are very pretty as you are." Were his ears burning? It felt like his ears were burning. "Now. Would you like to have pancakes or not?"

She blinked at him for a long moment before shrugging. "Sure, why not?"

Less than three minutes later he was standing in the elevator with her. He started getting antsy about ten seconds after the doors closed.

What was she wearing?

Was it lilac? Lavender? Sweet pea? He knew it wasn't roses. Good – she didn't stick to stereotypes.

Whatever it was, it was seriously fogging up his head.

"Uh, are you okay?"

Oh no, she was staring at him. She looked cute with her eyebrows cocked.

Vassily tried to pass it off coolly. What he ended up doing was croaking out an unconvincingly hoarse, "I am fine."

"Sure…"

She kept an eye on him, as though expecting him to collapse, a legitimate concern since his lungs seemed to be spasming in his chest and making him almost hyperventilate.

"Are you, like, claustrophobic?"

Claustrophobic… what was that? His English to Russian translation brain skills were not working. He blamed it on lack of oxygen. "Maybe… I do not know."

She made the situation worse by coming and standing next to him, and then _grabbing his arm_. "Okay, sit down here on the ground and take deep breaths. Put your head between your knees. That's it, boy, you're doing great."

Forget his ears – everything above his shoulders was now bright red and burning in embarrassment.

He was so screwed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXX

Noelle pulled her long hair back into a ponytail and bunched up her uniform in her hands. She threw it into the clothes hamper with more force than was strictly necessary.

Dammit, that had been embarrassing. There had been a time when it would have taken them all of five minutes to get through the obstacle course. Of course, that had been back when Warren Worthington IV had been their leader.

She sighed. She missed Gabriel's expert leadership – the man had been a natural at getting them in and out of tight spots – and calm disposition. Now, however, the Marines Corps was making great use of his skills; he was already a Lance Corporal and looking to be promoted. Mutants seemed to be quite welcome in the Armed Forces.

"Y got a mean look on y' face, cherie. Looks like y' t'inkin' o' punchin' someone." Vincent grinned from where he was leaning casually against the side of her bedroom's doorway.

"Are y' volunteerin'? 'Cause y' lookin' lahke a prime candidate."

He raised an eyebrow. "Y' didn' much like de trainin' session, den?"

"_Mon pere_ woulda died o' shame. It was sloppy what we did. Gabriel woulda had us in and out in less den five minutes."

Vincent frowned. "Who is dis Gabriel y'all keep talkin' about?"

Noelle smiled dreamily. "I'm talkin' 'bout Warren Worthington IV – he's Eddie and Monica's brother. He graduated de year befo' y' came. Went into de Marines afteh high school."

Her boyfriend immediately perked up. "Da Marines. Dere's an idea."

Instantly suspicious, she narrowed her eyes at him. "What's an idea?"

"Marines. T'ink I'd be good at it?"

"No," was the immediate response. "Y' suck at followin' orders. An' wha' de hell's all dis crap 'bout joinin' de Marines? Not dat it ain' an honorable t'ing t' do – but it's not f' you."

"Pourquoi?" he demanded, sounding insulted. "I could do it!"

She scoffed. "O' course y' could do it. Y'd be runnin' rings around y' drill instructors. No one's doubtin' dat, _mon amour_, but Ah could join de Air Force an' be good at it, but Ah'd hate it."

He glared. "Dat's life. Sometimes y' don' always get whatcha want."

"Wow, Dr. Phil, dat's deep."

"Well, den, oh wise girlfriend o' mine, _dites-moi_. What should I do fo' de rest o' my life?"

Noelle didn't even have to think about it. "Live. Until y' die, o' course."

"Oh yeah, 'cause dat won' get borin'."

"Y' could always jus' stay on as an X-Man. De professor won' refuse y'."

He sighed. "I'd like t' do mo' den dat."

"Den travel. Go t' college. Mos' universities don' make ya declare a major 'til de middle o' y' second year."

"Wit' what money? I'm cut off – dat scholarship from de Met won' last long. An' I ain' gon' leech offa de Institute fo'ever. I got pride."

She laughed and threaded her arm through his, pulling him out into the hallway. "Well den, use dat pride t' figure out how t' apply fo' scholarships. Dere's always more art contests."

"_D'accord, d'accord_… wha' were we talkin' about befo' dis?"

Noelle thought for a long moment. "Warren Worthington. He was de cutest boy t' walk t'rough dose doors in years."

Her boyfriend stiffened. "Y' dated him?"

Her nose wrinkled. "No. An' it wasn' fo' lack o' tryin', neit'er. Guess mah charmin' personaliteh jus' couldn' make up fo' bein' de size o' de average elementary schooler. He always kept tellin' me dat Ah was jus' too young."

He blinked at her. "_You _couldn' get a date wit' a straight man?"

She glared. "Mah breasts hadn' come in yet! Ah was operatin' at onleh forteh percent capaciteh!"

"Y' breasts make up fo' sixteh percent o' yo' charm?"

"Well it sho' ain' mah sparklin' personaliteh."

Vincent laughed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXXX

James Allerdyce was now officially out of the doghouse.

Thank God.

It had taken two solid days of groveling and blatant ignoring of Miss Frost and her sodding breasts to get him out of trouble with his girlfriend. And some chocolates. And an extremely embarrassing stunt Julia Alvers had suggested, involving a boombox (stolen from Mr. Drake) and standing outside Monica's window for almost twenty minutes before she deigned to open her window and speak to him.

But now all was again right with the world. Monica was walking through the Institute with him, hand in hand.

Life was good. For now. Until he screwed up again.

But he wasn't going to think about that.

As they walked to breakfast, Monica turned towards him. "So what do you think?"

Damn. Had she been talking? "'Bout what, luv?"

She rolled her eyes. "About Halloween costumes!"

He blinked. "It's still September."

"It's September 10th! We have to start getting ready! The professor agreed to let us have a costume party for Halloween. So what do you think? Should we do the whole angel and devil thing?"

"The what now?"

"You know… I dress as an angel…" she sidled up to him and looked up at him through her thick black lashes. "And you can be my devil."

He couldn't help but grin. "And would this angel costume go past your knees?"

She giggled. "I said angel, not saint. "

His grin widened.

"I'm liking the sound of this, luv. Tell me more."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXX

Vincent laid in a hammock he and Noelle had stretched between two trees and sighed deeply.

The week had been made up of agonizing Danger Room sessions. Wolverine was livid and approving by turns; it seemed that while most of them were fairly capable in negotiating the drill camp-like obstacle course by themselves, put them together in a group and everything started breaking down. Atlas was a decent leader, but one well-aimed criticism could have him secondguessing himself. Bijou was extremely intelligent and flexible, but she wasn't totally aware of all of her teammates' abilities, which occasionally slowed them down because she didn't know everything that was at her disposal. Kestrel was straightforward and practical, with an eye for details and a knack for seeing the simplest, cleverest way out of nasty situations.

Cicero, however, was a nightmare. He was a pompous ass who made comments about everyone else's leadership styles: Atlas was too slow, Bijou never knew what she was talking about, Kestrel was a reckless excuse for a commander, and he, Sniper, was only a rookie X-Man who had no business directing anyone.

And as for Cicero's leadership… Well, it wasn't the worst, but he had the infuriating tendency to never listen to anyone else's ideas, even when he was trying to come up with a plan. To be fair, the plans weren't awful, but they didn't leave a lot of room for improvising. And considering everything Vincent had seen last year, the X-Men were always improvising.

Vincent wasn't quite sure what kind of a leader he as Sniper was. Logan had declared that he 'wasn't totally hopeless when he kept his head on' and Noelle had translated that as 'de boy's got talent when he ain' bein' reckless'.

Thankfully, it was the first Saturday of the year and the Professor had intervened on the students' behalf to get the Danger Room sessions cancelled so everyone could relax.

For him, this meant lounging in a hammock with his girlfriend, half-asleep while she lazily flipped through something called _The Hunger Games_. He grunted a bit when she rearranged herself, but otherwise didn't move.

He was just starting to run his fingers through her silky smooth hair when he felt something shove at the middle of his back, right between his shoulder blades through the hammock. His body jolted up, jostling Noelle, who immediately sat up (right in his lap, he was happy to note).

"W'as up?"

He winced."Um…"

And damn her if she didn't smirk at him and shift in a very uncomfortable, but not entirely awful, sort of way. "Po' choice o' words, _cher_?"

Vincent scowled at her. "I hate you."

She wrinkled her nose and gave him a completely unrepentant grin. "No y' don'." She leaned a little closer and set her hand very firmly onto the center of his chest, pushing herself up just a bit so she loomed over him. He admired her unashamedly for a moment before stretching his body up, eyes focused on her lips.

There was a very ill concealed gagging noise.

And abruptly Vincent was reminded of the push to the bottom of the hammock that had started all of this in the first place. He turned a scowled glare around –

And looked straight at the little red-headed Summers girl.

"Dawnie?" Noelle said, sitting up and swinging her legs off the hammock. "Wha's de mattah?"

The kid had a real Pippi Longstocking thing going on with her red braids hanging down past her ears and the smattering of freckles across her nose. If not for the huge pout and quivering lower lip, she would not have looked out of place on a TV commercial.

"Daddy's not taking me to Dairy Queen."

Vincent knew by the frown on Noelle's face that this was a big deal.

"Wha' d'ya mean, _bebe_?"

Dawn Summers stamped her white sandaled foot into the ground. "Daddy always takes me to get an ice cream on Saturdays. And then we come home and eat it in front of Mommy's statue and he tells me stories about her."

Tears started to roll. "But today he said he had to talk to that stupid ice lady."

Ah, Ms. Frost. The face (and saline boobs) that launched a thousand breakups.

Noelle leaned forward and scooped the child up into her lap. "Ah now, sugah, don' give dat streetwalker de satisfaction o' tears."

"What's a streetwalker?"

To her credit, Noelle didn't even hesitate. "'S a woman who walks around wit' half her breasts spillin' out."

Dawn thought a moment about this before nodding emphatically. "Yup. That's the ice witch."

"Now don' go callin' her a witch," Noelle said reprovingly.

The little girl stuck out her lower lip. "Why not?"

"Cuz she's bigger den you an' could take y' in a fahght."

"I hate her."

"Ah know. But rahght now ya daddy lahkes her. Maybe it won' last an' maybe it will. Fo' now all we c'n do is wait. An' maybe go get ice cream."

Dawn perked up. "What?"

"Ice cream," Noelle raised an eyebrow. "Y'know, sweet, cold, drippin' goodness? What dey sell at Dairy Queen?"

The redhead giggled and hit Noelle's arm playfully. "I know what ice cream is!"

"Bon. Well, if we ask him real niceleh, _Monsieur_ Vincent heah mahght take us ladies t' get Blizzards. What d'y' say, O Great Prince?"

Vincent grinned, biting his tongue to keep from laughing outright. He managed to heave himself out of the hammock and sank dramatically to one knee before the two girls. "Who am I t' refuse _deux belles femmes_?"

He kissed both their hands. Dawn giggled and blushed, while Noelle just gave him that look from under her eyelashes that made his heart skip in his chest.

The next fifteen minutes were spent borrowing keys for the jeep, retrieving purses (a pink Dora the Explorer number and a much plainer leather brown shoulder bag) and a wallet, and meeting in the kitchen.

It was just as they were about to leave that the pseudo-blonde who had made this expedition necessary at all came sweeping into the kitchen, clad in designer jeans (about two sizes too small) and a Gucci blouse (her breasts were popping alarmingly).

"Oh _there_ you are, Dawnie!" cooed Miss Frost. "I have been looking everywhere for you!"

Vincent cast a glance at 'Dawnie'. She had attached herself to Noelle's right knee and didn't look as though she had any intention of letting go.

This did not seem to bother Miss Frost. "Darling, I heard how I ruined your Saturday ice cream tradition with your daddy and I felt just awful! Why don't you come with me and we'll go get an ice cream cone?"

Dawn's grip on Noelle's leg tightened.

Vincent wondered if the tightness of his girlfriend's jaw was due to the pressure around her leg or the syrupy sweet tones of the woman before them. "_Desolee_, Miz Frost, but we'd already made plans t' get Dawn her ice cream ourselves."

Miss Frost's left eyebrow twitched slightly. "I don't believe I was speaking to you, Miss LeBeau. I know your grip on the English language is a bit lacking but surely you realized I was speaking to Dawnie, here."

He didn't even need to glance at his girlfriend to tell that she was wearing her most aggravating smile, complete with dimples and the "I don't give a shit" glitter in her eyes.

"Well, mah mama always said dat if came down t' dressin' lahke a lady o' pretendin' t' talk lahke one, Ah should dress lahke one." Noelle ran her eyes with cool disdain over the buttons just barely containing Miss Frost's bulging bosom. Then she spoke again, her Cajun accent completely gone and replaced by Miss Frost's impeccable Northern upper class accent. "Of course for some of us, we do not have to sacrifice our ability to speak in a not utterly boring, superficial way, to be able to keep ourselves from dressing like pole dancers.

"Now. Dawn, do you want to go with Miss Frost to get ice cream or would you like to come with us?"

Dawn's eyes had grown to the size of pool balls at Noelle's mimicry. "With you!"

Noelle smiled. "Well, guess dat settles dat. _Mal chance, Mam'selle_ Frost, betteh luck next tahme."

And, Dawn in tow, and Vincent bringing up the rear with a smirk, she swept out.

It wasn't until they had made it to the garage that Vincent lengthened his stride to catch up to Noelle and wrap an arm around her waist. He leaned in close, never slackening his pace, and pressed his lips to the spot just under her ear. "_Tu es une sacrée chienne. J'approuve_."

She laughed softly. "_Je pensais que vous le feriez. Pense que j'étais trop méchante?_"

He smirked. "_Non. Elle le méritait – la plus saint que toi salope._"

"What are you saying?" Dawn suddenly demanded, yanking at the hem of Noelle's jean cutoffs.

"Vereh bad t'ings," Noelle informed her solemnly. "We be in big trouble if anybodeh heard us."

Dawn looked delighted. "What did you say?"

The older girl leaned over and whispered something into the child's ear. Dawn went pick and giggled.

They had just made it to one of the vehicles bought specifically for students' use, when a head peeked into the garage.

Luna Roedel-Maximoff's lower lip had reached epic proportions and was quivering alarmingly. "Are you going away, Miss Noelle?"

Noelle cocked her head playfully. "We takin' Miz Dawnie here t' get some ice cream. Mebbe if y' ask her, she let y' come wit' us."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXXX

Emma Frost paced in the room she now shared with Scott Summers.

Damn that Noelle LeBeau. Damn her and her wretched little boy toy. Both of them were psychic deadzones – she couldn't read or influence either of them.

If she had, she would have been on her way to Dairy Queen with that little red-headed brat. And one step closer to her objective –

"Emma?"

She turned and smiled dazzlingly at her lover. "Hello darling. How was the teachers' meeting?"

He smiled a bit. "Same as usual. I wish you could have been there, but –"

She laughed throatily and sidled up to him, pressing her curves close up to him. "I know, I know. The Professor is still waiting to see if I will join as an instructor."

"You could, you know," Scott said fervently. "You were a great teacher at your school and we would be glad to have you!"

The blonde (her color was only _slightly_ enhanced, thank you very much) kissed his throat. "My love, you know I came here to get _away_ from teaching."

Scott grinned. "Then I can't say you made a very great choice coming to the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters."

She looked up at him through her eyelashes. "I happen to find the children, and… other company here a nice change of pace."

"Oh!" he said suddenly. "How did it go with Dawn? I know you were trying to get to know her."

She let her face fall. "I'm afraid she hasn't warmed up to me yet. I offered to take her to get her some ice cream – not to replace you, of course, darling – but she seemed to have her heart set on going with that young lady… what's her name… Natalie L… something?"

Just as she had predicted, Scott's face darkened. "Noelle LeBeau. Yeah, she's got all the little ones in her back pocket – they love her, especially Dawn."

"Well," Emma said soothingly. "I wouldn't worry about it. The two of them left with that responsible looking one. Vincent, isn't it?"

The man's face was now a thundercloud. "You let her leave with Vincent Boudreaux?!"

She immediately sat up in righteous indignation. "Scott Summers! Your Professor Xavier trusts both of those young people! I think the least you could do is give them the benefit of the doubt! Have either of them given you any reason to distrust them with any of the children?"

He shifted sulkily. "No."

"Well then, let them take Dawn out for ice cream. Especially when I claimed her father during the time she and he usually get some."

Scott smiled at her. "How did I ever meet anyone like you?"

"Oh darling, never ask the universe why. It always likes to surprise us."

**Oh Emma Frost, thou art a heartless bitch.**

**Now. For all of those of you who are wondering at the quality or interesting-ness (is this a word?) of my chapters, let me say that this IS actually building up to something and I promise it won't be as boring as the next few chapters.**

**Also, if you could all help out with the coming Xavier Institute Halloween party – who should be what? I need costume ideas – anybody still on that Halloween buzz?**

_**French Lesson!**_

"_**You are one hell of a bitch. I approve."**_

"_**I thought you would. You think I was too mean?"**_

"_**No. She deserved it – that holier-than-thou slut."**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Once upon a time, there was a fanfic writer. Once she had been very diligent about her updating, but lately she had become quite lazy. To teach her a lesson, the Powers That Be decided to blue screen her loyal old computer, and though she was able to resuscitate the machine long enough to save her latest work, her new computer was without a decent Word Processor until she had the money to buy new software. Deciding not to tempt the Powers of the Web, she updated her story and lived happily ever after.**

**The fairy tale above is a condensed form of the avalanching insanity that was my technical problems... but I have overcome and here is the new chapter!**

**Please review!**

Chapter 6

Vincent scowled darkly at the question on the computer screen. 'Would you consider yourself a planner?'

_A planner of what? Assassinations? Parties? Invasions? Search and rescues? Dinners? _

He clicked yes.

'Do you like to work with your hands?'

_Well that depends if I'm digging ditches, shoveling horse shit, building a shed or fixing an engine._

He clicked yes.

The screen flickered. 'Congratulations! Your scores indicate you would be best suited for work as a carpenter, plumber…'

"_Sacre_!" He none too gently slammed his head down onto the hard wooden desk.

"What'd it say now, mate?" James asked, leaning over his shoulder. "Ooh, manual laborer, sounds like loads of fun. But didn't you get something like an attorney or businessman last time?"

"Damn, stupid, inconsistent aptitude tests."

"Mate, maybe you shouldn't be taking Internet aptitude tests so seriously. I swear you've gotten every bloody occupation possible. Just apply to a college and take some blasted courses, surely something will suit you."

Vincent glared up at him from where he was still face-planted onto the desk. "Maybe y' should be chasin' y' cousin around."

James flopped into a chair and waved his arms like a tree in a windstorm. "Please. Ever since you and Noelle took her and Dawn Summers for ice cream, those two little wretches have been thick as thieves!"

"Dat's stereotypical!" sang Claire LeBeau from where she was playing Bullshit with Graziella and Saya.

Vincent smirked.

James scowled at the pseudo-innocence on the younger girl's face. "Bloody Cajuns."

Claire stuck her tongue out at him at the same time that Vincent lightly socked him in the arm. "Ow!"

"James-kun," Saya said wisely, shaking her cards at him. "You should know better by now than to insult Cajuns."

"And how are you any wiser than me?" the Brit complained. "I live with a Cajun too!"

Grazi giggled and shook her brown curls out of her face in a move she had picked up from Claire and her mother during the summer. "Ah, but you will find, Mister James, that Saya has lived with a Cajun longer than you."

The three girls all laughed at the indignation on James' face. Whose scowl instantly darkened as Vincent chortled into his hand.

The redhead stomped out muttering, "Bloody sods, the lot of you…"

This made the young girls completely lose their heads, breaking into hysterical laughter.

Vincent rolled his eyes and turned back to the computer, only to turn back sharply when Graziella gasped out, "Oh, Claire, are you alright?"

The little Southerner had her hands to her forehead, her face screwed up in discomfort.

"_Petite_?" he called. He happened to genuinely like Claire LeBeau – she was practical, good natured, but had a sardonic streak as wide as the Mississippi. The fact that she seemed to have approved from the get-go his dating Noelle was another point in her favor.

"Mm," the girl said, rubbing her temple with a gloved finger. "Dat was weird."

"Claire?" Grazi whispered.

"Ah'm fahne, jus' a headache. Jus' need an aspirin."

"But, Claire –"

"Grazi, Ah been havin' dese all summer. An' Hank said Ah was fahne, 'membeh? Jus' a puberteh t'ing."

Claire and Grazi left the room, still bickering, with Saya rolling her eyes at their heels.

Vincent could only shake his head.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX

October came rolling in, and with it a never ending stream of crap to do and a number of unpleasant realizations.

First off, dear lovely, mostly-silicon, Miss Frost declared she would be staying on as an instructor, much to the horror of the female population of the Institute – especially Dawn, who had formed a deep and rather unlikely friendship with Luna Roedel-Maximoff. Now you couldn't find the little redhead without her platinum blond friend. The two seemed to have bonded over their loneliness and were now perpetually to be found hiding under tables in the library, dining room, or in the kitchen, giggling over something.

At least something good had come out of blond witch descending on them.

Second, Noelle had shown herself far more concerned with her sister's sudden, piercing headaches than Claire. His girlfriend seemed to be on edge about something. When he asked, she said it was a feeling that was hovering in the air. "Lahke smog… but not…"

Third, the Professor had made it quite clear that he expected, in that gentle but unavoidably stern way of his, that he expected all seniors to apply to college. Hank had been placed in charge of this and was now constantly hounding them for their progress. Vincent still had not decided what he was going to do; though for the benefit of hiding this, he had said he would apply to a few he had named off the top of his head. But how the hell was he supposed to gather the letters of recommendation, transcripts, and crap colleges required?

He highly doubted anyone would be impressed by his Assassin days – and those that were were probably not the kind of people he wanted to be anywhere near.

And how was he supposed to pay for it?

Stupid college.

Fourth was Jessie Dukes. The damn girl was popping up everywhere! She seemed absolutely determined to win him over, something she was being helped with by Vassily Rasputin. Which was weird because the Russian quite obviously was smitten with the girl.

Fifth was Sage. Or Tessa. Their pregnant instructor.

Correction. Their VERY PREGNANT instructor. The woman looked as though she had swallowed a watermelon whole and was inclined to be very… _evil_ for the tiniest reasons. For instance, you did not bring up her weight. You did not bring up how big the baby must be because that insinuated that she was fat. You did not bring up whatever she was eating, because that insinuated she was eating too much and _that_ insinuated that she was fat.

You did not bring up Bishop either; these days she was as likely to curse his name to hell as to coo what a wonderful boyfriend he was.

You did not bring up the due date – one, because it could be construed as a jab at her weight, and two, it was a reminder that she had another FOUR WEEKS OF SUFFERING TO ENDURE, DAMN YOU LUCAS BISHOP TO HELL AND BACK… and so on.

And you most certainly did not bring up the fact that Noelle had been right. A little girl was fully expected to pop out sometime before Thanksgiving (or so everyone was praying).

Then there were the Danger Room sessions. The dear, sweet Danger Room sessions.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX

"Fireball!"

"Duck!"

Vincent dove out of the way as a rolling chunk of burning insanity went careening past his body.

Logan had been on a bit of a natural disaster kick lately, though since this was Logan, the natural disasters he came up with were the kinds of things that made Hurricane Katrina look like a morning drizzle.

Today happened to be a meteor shower. Because, really, who didn't want to spend his day dodging space rocks that were obviously going to fall at any minute.

And because they were X-Men, they also had to deal with a platoon of tall, slender, silver robots that were actually gifts from Tony Stark. Apparently the billionaire had been experimenting with a robot idea with his new friend Bruce Banner had whipped up in a project dubbed 'Ultron'.

Whatever.

He slashed his sword through one robot's pelvis, turned, dodging a strike from another, and threw his arm into the air to catch Kestrel's outstretched hand.

"Tell me," he panted slightly. "What're de actual chances dat we ever gon' be attacked by a bunch o' robots durin' a large scale meteor shower?"

Kestrel glared at him. "Tryin' t' jinx us?"

He grinned. "How many weirdoes can dere possibly be left in de world?"

Noelle's eyebrow rose up. Way up.

Thirty minutes, several destroyed robots, a few dozen flaming asteroids, and one shower each later, the two were still arguing about the different villains and whackjobs running around.

"Dr. Doom."

"Didn' dose Four… somet'in's deal wit' him?"

"Da Fantastic Four. Stupid name. And dey jus' sent him back to Europe. He ain' dead. An' las' Ah heard, he was showin' signs o' lahfe.

"How much says someone'll be dealin' wit' him in de nex' two years?"

He frowned. "Okay, point. Who else?"

"Dat weird lizard guy who was trashin' New York las' fall."

"Oh I remember dat. Remind me again why we didn' help wit' dat?"

Noelle sighed and tossed her bangs. "'Cause de Chief o' Police wanted t' be de one – or boss o' de one – who caught de spider-guy who was runnin' aroun' rahght befo' de lizard showed up. We neveh got de green lahght t' go in."

Vincent snorted. "An' now 'Spiderman' is New York's hero."

"One o' de many heroes o' New York. I's patently ridiculous. How many super powered people c'n be runnin' aroun' in one town?"

"Apparently six mo' wit' dose Avengers."

She snapped her fingers. "'Course! Dat crazy guy wit' de stupid reindeer helmet, an' his happy legions o' crazy aliens who blew New York dis summer."

"Why is it always New York?"

"Would y' rat'er it be happenin' on Bourbon? Ah t'ink Katrina was enough o' a disaster t' earn us clemency fo' a few years. 'Sahdes, b'tween yo' family an' mahne, we make enough o' our own troubles wit'out borrowin' from somebody else."

There was a certain logic to this.

"Okay… I give up. I won' say stuff like dat no mo'."

She sighed deeply. "Too late fo' dat. We cursed alreadeh."

He snorted. "An' how would dat curse look li-"

"Good morning." Miss Frost came stalking out of the kitchen, glaring darkly. "While you are in there, you might think about taming those two little… girls under the table. _What _that redhead must be putting her father through!"

Noelle slanted him a look. "Y' jus' had t' say somet'in'."

They entered the kitchen.

"Does she count as a curse?"

"If she doesn' what does?"

"She's not a curse, she's a witch!"

"A wicked witch!"

Sure enough, there under the table sat Dawn and Luna, glaring darkly at the door, presumably at the absent Miss Frost.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXX

Noelle grinned and took a seat at the table. The kitchen was mercifully empty, most of the other students had escaped off to enjoy the fall sunshine – which was quickly becoming less and less common as winter crept closer – and those in charge of making dinner hadn't yet come in to get started.

"Now what did Ah say 'bout callin' dat woman a witch?"

Dawn pouted. "Not to do it."

Luna crawled out to grab Noelle's knee. "But it's true!"

She tossed her hair elegantly. "Course i's true. But don' say it aloud. Bad mannehs. Now… le's talk about somet'in' vereh important."

The two girls sat up and gave her their undivided attention.

Noelle leaned forward conspiratorially. "Halloween costumes."

Dawn and Luna both squealed and began hopping up and down in sheer delight.

"I wanna be a princess!" Dawn babbled.

"OOO! You can be Ariel!"

"Aw – I'm ALWAYS Ariel, I wanna be another princess! But you could be Cinderella!"

"Ick! I HATE Cinderella. All she does is sing, sweep, and get married! She's a disgrace to the modern woman!"

Noelle's eyebrows went up. _Someone_ had been listening to Monica's rants about the antifeminism of early Disney movies. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Vincent shaking in silent laughter.

She turned to look at him. "Watch what y' laugh about, _cher_. Ah know fo' a fact dat James wan's t' take y' out fo' costumes."

He wrinkled his nose. "_Mon dieu_, don' he know I ain' inta dat?"

The girl grinned, speaking over Luna and Dawn's enthusiastic debate on the greatest and lamest Disney princess (Mulan was in the lead, and intense conversation was going as to whether Nala could be counted as a princess since she was not technically human), "Ah'm sho' he'd take y' out fo' dinneh an' dancin' if y' asked."

Her boyfriend scowled at her. "Y' jus' watch – dis is gonna be a nightmare." He suddenly narrowed his eyes at her. "An' what are _you_ gon' go as?"

She shrugged. "_Sais pas_. Kelsey's been tryin' t' get me t' go as Poison Ivy from Batman."

Vincent's eyes glazed over and she didn't need to be a psychic to know he was imagining her in a skimpy thong leotard with mesh tights and stiletto heels. And so, in true girlfriend fashion, she punched him.

"Jus' fo' dat, Ah'm gon' make sho' y' have a _wonderful_ tahme out wit' James."

He looked at her with enough fear to make her heart warm with joy.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXX

James couldn't believe this. "Come on, mate. It's perfect."

Vincent clenched his jaw and refused to look at the costume his friend was holding up. "No."

"Vincent –"

"I ain' wearin' dat."

"C'mon, it would match Noelle's Poison Ivy costume."

"I ain' wearin' dat."

"But –"

"I ain' wearin' dat."

"You look just like the actor did in the movie!"

"I ain' wearin' dat."

"Is that all you bloody well know how to say?!"

His friend arched an eyebrow. "Yes."

The Brit raised his hands to the ceiling. "Why won't you just accept the blasted thing?"

"Because dere is no way in hell I'm goin' anywhere dressed as de _Green Lantern_!"

"It would match –"

Vincent snorted impressively. "An' yo' crazy if y' t'ink Noelle LeBeau would eveh, _eveh_, wear dat excuse fo' a costume."

James glared. "I am _not _crazy! Sometimes, I may tilt a bit into psychosis, but Mum says that's totally normal!"

The other boy shrugged. "Well, guess I'm de las' person who should be accusin' ot'ers o' bein' crazy –"

James perked up. "What about a mental patient?! There's a straight jacket and –"

"_Non. Absolument pas_."

Why was this guy not willing to work with him? They had been here almost forty-five minutes and still they couldn't find a costume Vincent liked. He had refused to be Batman ("Are y' smokin' somet'in'?"), a ninja ("Dose are people y' don' piss off, mon ami."), a vampire ("Jus' cuz Mam'selle Rice happens t' live in N'Awlins doesn' mean I'm gon' wear _dat_."), a cowboy ("No. Jus'… no."), and Michael Jackson ("I hate you. Did y' know dat? I really, really, hate you.").

How was a bloke supposed to help his best mate when said best mate wouldn't cooperate?

They had knocked out his own costume in a matter of moments. All they had needed was a suit and a set of red devil horns and tail. He would be a hell of a devil.

Oh damn. He hated puns.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXXXX

Jessie hurried down the aisles of the costume store, looking around hopefully for something that wouldn't show off her extra fifty pounds.

She had been driven here by Miss Ororo, along with that Noelle's younger sister, Claire, and her best friend Grazi. Claire was just like her stupid older sister, skinny, pretty, and had big green eyes. Her friend was shorter and a bit chubbier – the kind that either pointed to devastating curves after puberty, or the beginning of a lifelong battle of the bulge, not unlike what Jessie was fighting.

The two girls had been arguing about makeup when Jessie had made her escape.

There had to be something that would make her look pretty.

_I mean_, she thought to herself logically. _I'm not awful looking. I have blue eyes and blond hair and all my teeth. I shower every day and don't do drugs. That's got to count for something, right? I'm a little fat… but some guys like that, right?_

"Hello, Jessica."

She grinned around at Vassily Rasputin. He had proved to be a good friend, though a bit high strung. He was always happy to study with her in the library or help her with the dishes or when it was her turn to make dinner. She liked him; he was sweet and very helpful.

But he was shy. Horrifically so.

It seemed that every time he spoke, he stuttered or blushed. Jessie thought it was cute and did her best to be as kind to him as possible.

"Hey, Vassily. What are you doing here?"

He shifted and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I am here with my brother and sister. I am looking for a costume. Are you also looking for a costume?"

"Yeah. I can't decide what to be… it looks like all the good costumes are meant for the skinny girls."

It was true too. There was an awesome Mafia chick getup, but the sizes only went up to Swedish-supermodel-who-eats-only-grapefruit-and-celery. The cute Greek goddess costume was obviously meant for anywhere between a small and Tinker Bell.

Angel? Too small around the waist.

Nurse? Her breasts were obscenely spilling out.

Bunny? She couldn't get the damn thing over her hips.

Princess Lea slave girl? Ha. Freakin'. Ha.

Vassily frowned deeply. "No! I saw several very… nice costumes for girls. They are over here."

He pointed to the (gulp) extra large section. The section she had been avoiding like the plague.

The Russian looked at her horrified expression. "What is the matter? Do you need help choosing?"

Jessie wished more than anything that he was an asshole. That way, she would be able to rage at him for being stupid and insulting and an asswipe and a bastard… and so on until she ran out of words. But no, Vassily Rasputin stood there with that agonizingly earnest expression on his face.

She sighed. He was way too nice for his own good. Way too nice to yell at.

"Sure… I mean, if you're not busy…"

"No! No, I am not busy. I would be very happy to help you find something!"

They ended up elbow deep in plus-size costumes, with Jessie holding up several costumes for Vassily to judge.

"Well now, what have we here?"

Jessie (clutching a Viking lady costume and the petticoat to a Marie-Antoinette ensemble) turned around impatiently.

And froze.

Oh God. Oh no.

Not _them_.

James Allerdyce and… (OH GOD, NO!) Vincent Boudreaux were standing right behind them, James holding a costume under his arm, while Vincent (looking extremely aggravated) held nothing.

And she was holding two tents meant for… her.

"Hello," Vassily said easily.

Jessie managed a rusty sounding squeak.

"Marvelous," James said happily. He grabbed Vincent's arm and thrust the taller young man forward. "Now, tell Vincent that he would be a perfect Julius Caesar!"

That rather disturbing thought jolted Jessie right out of her stupor. "What?!"

The Brit pouted. "Well, I suggested Nero, but he said –"

"Dere's enough aspersions on mah own sanity dat I don' need to be addin' to it. An' dressin' up as de lunatic dat burned down Rome –"

"It was probably a tremendous sight!" James said immediately, his eyes growing rather dreamy at the thought of the long ago conflagration.

"- and slept wit' his _sister_ –"

"Alright, that is quite bad."

"- would not be sayin' good t'ings 'bout mah head."

"I cannot argue against that," Vassily said with a thoughtful nod.

"What have you got there, Jessie?" James suddenly said, pointing at her armful.

Cheeks beginning to burn, the girl had to show her shamefully big clothing options.

James was just launching into a long speech on how he was in favor of the Viking costume, when Vincent's phone went off.

"Sorry, gotta take dis.

"'Lo? Hey, Noelle."

Jessie clenched her teeth.

"Yeah… at de costume place… Shut up, y' _knew_ it was gon' be a disaster."

And all the while he was jabbering on the phone, James just kept on going on and on about the stupid Viking costume.

"Oh yeah? W'as yo' idea?

"Seriously? Y' couldn' mention dat dis mornin' befo' I wen' out on de shoppin' expedition from hell wit'-"

He abruptly lapsed into French, apparently arguing fervently with his girlfriend.

A little tendril of hope rose in Jessie's heart, but was quickly squashed when Vincent hung up the phone with a grin. "_Merci a Dieu_. I got a costume idea. _Venez_, James, I know jus' where t' look."

James looked incensed. "Really? One phone call from Noelle and you've got your whole life figured out?!"

"I's a costume, _mon ami_. Ain' like we runnin' off t' get married an' buy a house." Vincent turned his attention back to Jessie and Vassily. "_Bon_, good luck findin' y' costumes! An' don' lissen t' James, Jessie, his opinions ain' wort' a damn."

And just like that, they were gone.

Even as Jessie's lip quivered, her hands wrung at the cheap fabric of the costumes.

If Vincent and his girlfriend, Noelle the Barbie, showed up as Han Solo and Princess Leia – Tatooine style – she was going to blast both of them into dust.

Distantly, she heard, "Jessie? What is the matter? Are you crying?"

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As there was ever only a two in seven chance that Halloween was going to fall on a good day – ideally Friday or Saturday – there was no real great surprise that the Halloween parties – one for the children and one for the teens – were going to take place on the Friday and Saturday right before the Sunday Halloween.

Friday afternoon was, quite simply, a zoo.

Knights, football players, cowboys, fairy princesses and everything else you could imagine were running everywhere, while the older students kept them corralled in the backyard and living room.

At one point, Captain Jack Sparrow (aka Jake Alvers) and his trusty sidekick Buzz Lightyear (Tony Maslow) were threatening to force Princess Tiana (Brianna Johnson) and her ladybug friend (Allison Cramer) to walk the plank into "infinity and beyond". The villains were timely defeated by Princess Merida (Dawn Summers) and her best friend Tinker Bell (Luna Roedel-Maximoff). The two little ladies were both armed (a plastic bow and several suction cup arrows, and a magic wand carefully constructed out of a wooden stick, ribbons, and a healthy coating of glitter) and not afraid of laying the weapons on hard.

The fight was only broken up with the arrival of Noelle and Laura, who relieved the young heroines of their weapons and sent them off to help carry out the brain cupcakes.

In the end, Joey Crisp – dressed as the Flash – got overexcited while bobbing for apples, shot off lightening and shorted out the building, cutting the power to the Institute.

And though the children were still able to finish their party and games outside and go to bed laden with prizes and candy, when the power was reactivated the next morning, there had been no less than twenty-eight calls made to the Institute.

They would not be noticed until the next evening.

**Guess who's crashing the party? Go on - GUESS!**

_**Sacre**_** – Damn**

_**Cher **_**- dear**

_**Mon Dieu**_** – my god**

_**Sais pas – **_**Don't know**

_**Non. Absolument pas **_**– No. Absolutely not.**

_**Merci a Dieu**_** – Thanks to God.**

_**Venez**_** – "Come on"**


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm not dead! Still plugging (very slowly) along. I can't promise fast updates, but if you stick me I can promise I will finish this story. **

**Also, I'm trying something new for translations. Tell me if it works for you guys or not.**

**And, after several months - I don't want to know how many - here is chapter 7:**

Chapter 7

Claire LeBeau regarded herself critically in the mirror. She was dressed in black leggings, tight enough to horrify her father, black knee high boots she had borrowed from Lucy Crisp, and a loose white peasant blouse that was loose around her arms and gaped just a bit at her breasts (small though they were). The black and gold corset she had picked up at the costume shop was cinched tightly across her abdomen, along with a thick black belt with a large golden buckle, and a silky looking sleeveless coat with an elegant red, gold, and black print design thrown over it. A matching bandana was twined through her hair to keep it out of her face, and her belt had a rapier and a pistol strapped to it.

All in all, she looked like a hell of a pirate.

But still, it never hurt to get a second opinion.

"What'ya t'ink, Grazi?"

Graziella had chosen for a more obvious costume, though she looked no less cute in her leopard costume. The yellow and black spots that dotted the body suit and the short, but sweeping, skirt tied around the waist were all blurry and rather abstract, giving it all a very dreamlike, mysterious look. If anything, she looked like a cat one would dream about after just having seen the Lion King.

But then, Grazi _had_ asked for all of that when she had gone to Ororo and Sage, begging for a special costume, and the two women had turned out a beautifully constructed piece.

The cat looked over from where she was adjusting her cat ears headpiece. "I think you should be very glad that neither your father nor your brother is around to see how tight those pants are."

Claire scoffed. "Ah kin wear what Ah wan' – i's Halloween."

There was a light laugh from the doorway. "Da's what'you t'ink, babeh sistah."

She winced as her sister's reflection suddenly appeared besides her own. Unlike herself, Noelle had not yet put on her costume, though her hair was now twisted elegantly up into a beautiful chignon with the front part curled and crimped just so.

Graziella stared at the hairstyle in awe. "That is so beautiful, Noelle… could you do that to my hair?"

The older girl arched an eyebrow. "Wouldn' look rahght wit' yo' cat ears, petite. But if y' wan', Ah make y' somet'in' lahke dis fo' Christmas."

"You promise?"

"Promise."

Still, Noelle consented to redoing Graziella's hair so that it wasn't quite so frizzy and bushy, and then helped curl Claire's hair to emphasize her Penelope Cruz-style look.

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The costume party had utterly taken over the bottom floor of the Institute. Twinkle lights and black and orange crepe paper draped every available space, fake bats and spiders hung from the ceiling and all kinds of freaky props were set everywhere. Tables were set along one wall, laden with huge bowls of punch, soda, and blood (liquid strawberry jello), and plates of every kind of snack or junk food.

Red, orange, yellow, and black party lights were set up in the corners and along the walls to flash different colors on the partiers.

The partiers who were just starting to arrive.

First came Monica and James, clad in short (_short_) and tight ("Don't push it, Goldilocks": Logan), white angel costume complete with little feathered wings, and sleek devil in a black and red suit with red horns and tail.

Then Julia, who had opted for a Disney Rapunzel look – post hair cut – and Alexei, whose Flynn Rider costume actually suited his broad shoulders and strong jawline very well, came sweeping in.

Kelsey and Lucy Crisp, both decked out in disco wear, complete with shiny white GOGO boots and short, long-sleeved dresses in eye-scalding shades of pink (Kelsey) and orange (Lucy).

Sofya came alone in a simple, sleek outfit of a white skirt and blazer with a black blouse beneath it. A tasteful combination of pearls at her throat and ears, as well as neat white and black heels proved to be perfect accessories. To complete her sophisticated look, she had twisted her hair up into a complicated bun and applied makeup with a careful but dramatic hand. "Call me Coco. Coco Chanel."

Alana had chosen risqué and had gone for an Avatar look. It was vaguely disturbing to have a Na'vi running around, and Logan had been more than a little unhappy with the rather skimpy outfit – but her parents had given the all clear so long as "Nothing is showing that need never be seen until she is thirty." And nothing obscene was revealed in her costume.

Charles meanwhile had decided to go retro with an Indiana Jones outfit. Unfortunately, his ramrod straight posture was more than a little uncharacteristic of the swashbuckling adventurer, and he looked mildly uncomfortable in the iconic, wide brown hat.

Things were just starting to get underway with Rihanna's _Disturbia_ pounding in through the speakers, when Jessica came sidling into the room. Her Red Riding Hood costume that Vassily had helped her pick out was tight around her bust and flaring around her waist. It knocked off about twenty pounds and gave the illusion of an hourglass figure. Plus, she thought it was really cute.

As she was carefully maneuvering in her high heels, Vassily came in dressed in black trousers, a red shirt with long sleeves rolled up to the elbows, brown arm guards went around his forearms and an impressive ax hung from his belt. "Good evening, Jessica."

Jessie plunked her fists directly onto her hips. "Excuse me? Do you not understand the whole point of Halloween costumes? I am not Jessica tonight! I am Red Riding Hood!"

Vassily nodded with his usual half solemn, half nervous manner. "I am Piotr, from _Petya i volk_. I believe you would say that I am the… Woodsman? The one in the story who cuts Red Riding Hood and her grandmother out of the wolf." **[A.N.: "Peter and the Wolf"]**

Jessie nodded solemnly. "I see… Well then, I guess I owe you one tonight, don't I?"

She would never know what Vassily said in answer, because at that moment Vincent Boudreaux, aka, Sniper, aka, the Greek-Cajun God, came into the hall.

He was dressed in the sharpest suit she had ever seen, all sleek black lines and a hint of white in the shirt and weird handkerchief-y thing he had in his breast pocket. His blond hair had been slicked back in the sexiest way she had ever seen... and his lips were curved upward just so…

They just _didn't grow them like that_ in Kansas. She had to fight the urge to flap her skirt to relieve the ridiculous heat spreading up from her toes.

Vincent turned and seemed to reach out to just past the doorway. Then he drew his arm back.

And abruptly Jessie felt every one of her one hundred and fifty-six pounds.

Because attached to his arm was the wretchedly thin, sickeningly graceful form of Noelle LeBeau.

She was beautiful. An elegant silver flapper dress was draped over her body, emphasizing long limbs and tanned skin. Her long auburn hair had been twisted up off her back, with a section arranged just so to allow her reddish curls to fall around her face. And because she was _so_ freaking _awesome_, she wore a white, glittery flower headpiece over her right ear.

Jessie didn't think she had ever hated anyone so much.

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Noelle didn't think she had ever hated anything so much as these damned shoes.

Were they adorable?

Yes, they were.

Were they stunning?

Yup.

Did they go with her dress?

Duh.

Did they make her look magnificent?

Hell, yeah.

They also happened to be the most painful things she had ever forced onto her feet. Including those awful wedges she had been made to wear at her cousin Celeste's wedding (who chose neon green for a bridesmaid dress, anyway?).

She wished fervently she could have found those lovely kitten-heeled, strappy pumps in a color other than red and black. Maybe they would have looked a tad bit less spectacular than these things, but they most certainly would have been more comfortable.

Meanwhile, Vincent was drawing her close to his side and raising his chin just above her shoulder. "Okay. We made our entrance – c'n I take off dis damn jacket? I cain' breathe."

"Onleh if Ah c'n take off dese shoes_. Mon dieu_, dey're awful." **[A.N.: "My God"]**

He cast an appraising glance down at the silver stilletos. "But sexy."

Noelle scoffed. "No. Ryan Reynolds is sexy. Ryan Gosling is sexy. Dese're jus' painful."

Her boyfriend draped an arm across her shoulders, wincing slightly as his suit jacket pulled at his shoulders. "O' maybe y' jus' got a t'ing fo' Ryans."

She shrugged carelessly. "Maybe Ah do_… ils sont très… bandants_." **[A.N.: "they are very… sexy"]**

Vincent put on an affronted expression. "_Que diriez-vous des Vincents_?" **[A.N.: "What do you say about Vincent's?"]**

She made a face. "Ah s'ppose dey'll do in a pinch."

"_Gerbos_. Would y' two get a room?" sniffed Claire as she sashayed past in her pirate costume with Grazi giggling at her side. **[A.N.: "Gross"]**

"Knew we shoulda drowned dat one at birth," she grumbled as they ventured further into the gathering of fictional and historical characters.

"Why didn'cha?" Vincent asked, nodding a polite greeting to Professor Xavier who had been talked into wearing what looked suspiciously like a Star Trek captain's uniform.

"_Maman_ said somet'in' about her bein' a babeh, an' related t' us… somet'in', somet'in."

He laughed. "Sounds like y' were quite de big sister."

Noelle smirked. "_Mon gar_, y' got no idea." **[A.N.: "Dude"]**

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Vassily swallowed hard as he watched as Vincent Boudreaux whirled Noelle LeBeau so fast her dress flared up almost up to her thighs and dropped her into a dip. Though he had to admit they looked quite glamorous (even though Vincent had thrown his jacket off almost immediately and Noelle had left her shoes on a table), he could not understand why Jessica seemed to be taking this so hard.

He thought she looked… perfect.

The dress she wore emphasized her generous bosom, her full hips, and her long, curvy legs. She had curled her blond hair around her pretty face, all of which was framed by a bright crimson hood.

As he watched as Vincent and Noelle move with easy synchronization across the dance floor, the young Russian began carefully crafting a sentence in his mind.

_Dance with me._ No, that sounded too bossy.

_Please dance with me?_ No. That made him sound like a wimp.

_Would you care to dance?_ That made him sound snobby.

_Want to dance?_ She might not get his meaning…

What was his meaning? He didn't want to dance with her like they were only friends, but he didn't want to have to perform some kind of girly waltz like they were getting _married _or anything. He just wanted to… hold her close for a bit – identify that new perfume she was wearing… find out if her hair was as soft as it looked.

Wait… was that creepy? Did this mean he was turning into some kind of stalker?

Jessie was still staring at them with an expression mixed with disgust and… longing?

Vassily winced at this sign of Jessie's infatuation with the handsome Cajun.

Why? Really, how many words had she ever actually exchanged with the guy? Didn't she realize he had a girlfriend already? That it was Noelle LeBeau?

Why didn't she seem to notice _him?_

"Jessie?"

The blonde turned towards him.

"Want to dance?"

A brief moment of expressions flashed across Jessie's face, the most notable being surprise. And maybe happiness?

That was a smile, wasn't it?

"Sure. But don't expect much in these heels."

"I only expect for you to be Jessie."

It sounded ridiculously sappy, but judging by the bright smile that spread across her face, Vassily knew that it been the exactly the thing to say.

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The party was turning out to be quite the success. Music was blasting happily from the stereos so loudly that the walls were pulsing in time with the beat. Most everyone was on the floor dancing, though many of the girls had abandoned their shoes to dance barefoot.

It was only when Vincent had paused to grab a soda when he noticed the missing faces.

Sage and Bishop weren't there – but Sage was having problems with loud noises and had insisted on going somewhere quiet to eat.

Laura and her husband Alex had gone out to "rekindle their romance". Vincent was under the impression that meant they wanted to go somewhere to have obnoxiously loud sex without making every student in the Institute aware of it.

But the face he had especially noted…

"Hey," he asked Julia. "Where's Ororo?"

The petite Chicago native grinned wickedly. "Didn't you _hear_? This summer, when she was in New York for this mutant awareness benefit-thing, she met this totally hot African guy." She leaned in conspiratorially. "A totally hot African _King_ guy!"

Vincent was sure he had misunderstood. "A what now?"

"A King! Royalty!

"Kelsey told me Tony Stark introduced them –"

Suddenly, the loud music of Lady Gaga's _Alejandro_ went quiet. For a moment, all that could be heard was the sound of a dozen conversations, already spoken in louder tones to be heard over the music, then those too died abruptly away.

The silence left behind was both eerie and deafening.

"Logan?" the Professor said.

Logan, who had apparently been convinced (or bullied) into some kind of cowboy costume, was standing by the large glass doors leading out onto the terrace, looking out and sniffing the air suspiciously.

Several months alone with the aggravating but highly educational Canadian in the strange, but oddly relaxing, country of Japan had been enough to give Vincent a crash course in all of the majorly important expressions of his moody instructor. And the current expression quite loudly and obviously indicated that something was about to go very, _very_, wrong. He had dubbed it the: 'Fucking _hell_' look.

A bigger indication actually came in two different forms.

The first was a very loud, very creative expletive shouted very angrily by Logan.

The second was the sight of something very big and very solid crashing through the glass doors like a cannonball.

And then, just like that, there was one of the biggest damn men Vincent had ever seen in his life – including Markus, his mother's transvestite chauffeur.

The intruder stood over nine feet tall, with shoulders that had to stretch almost five feet across and arms as thick as some of the girls' whole bodies. He made even Alexei and Vassily look like little children. Perched on the top of his mountainous body was a strangely shaped helmet. It looked rather like the man had turned a giant red punch bowl upside down and decided to use it as a hat.

It would have been quite funny in any other situation, but just now it wasn't looking funny at all.

"Cain," the Professor said with a voice soft with shock.

"Hello, brother," the man mountain said with a grin.

The confusion and bafflement running rampant through the student body was finally relieved when Logan snarled out a terrible sounding, "Juggernaut."

Vincent immediately tensed. He had heard stories about Juggernaut. Or rather, he had heard Noelle's mother's tales about Juggernaut. Apparently he had taken on an entire army platoon – plus a sizable group of tanks – and then a team of his classmates' parents entirely on his own. He had only been narrowly defeated and only because Noelle and Claire's mother had managed to absorb his powers, but even then he had managed to escape, and had since been seen with the rarity of Bigfoot.

"What's the matter, brother?" laughed Juggernaut. "Aren't you going to welcome me home?"

"What are you doing here, Cain?" the Professor asked with deceptive calm.

"Made a new friend, Charles," the giant said, leering. "A very _interesting_ friend. He was kind enough to give me a gift."

Two hands the size of a car tires came up and Juggernaut began to very calmly remove his helmet. He tossed it aside carelessly (seeming not to notice when it flew thirty feet and embedded itself into the wall).

Somehow, it was rather comical to see the big man without the saucer helmet. Though he had a very intense face with dark hair and piercing dark eyes, his head just looked up so _small_ perched up there on those ridiculously broad shoulders. It looked rather like a coconut balanced on top of a mountain – granted, a coconut attached to a neck that was probably thicker than Vincent's thigh.

"Can you tell, brother?" An insane smile was stretching out across the Juggernaut's touch features. He tapped a finger the size of a salami against the side of his head. "C'mon, brother. Take a guess."

"Cain," the Professor's voice was so soft, yet everyone could still hear him. "What have you done?"

Then the Juggernaut started to laugh. "LOOK AT ME! NOTHING CAN STOP ME! I'M RAW POWER!"

And then, exactly like a freight train, he charged the Professor.

**And there you have it.**

**Something funky is on the horizon... I can feel it - though I only have the faintest idea of where this is going. Anyway - please find it in your hearts to review!**


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